


Maid For My Affections

by ClareParks



Category: Sanditon (TV 2019), Sanditon - Jane Austen
Genre: Alternate Universe - Regency, F/M, Regency Romance
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-26
Updated: 2021-03-08
Packaged: 2021-03-11 00:07:09
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 11
Words: 59,343
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28335879
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ClareParks/pseuds/ClareParks
Summary: Charlotte Heywood is seeking domestic employment after tragic familial circumstances unfold. The Parker family is in need of a new maid. And it's almost Christmas.✨HEA after a SLOW BURN 🔥🔥🔥✨Chapters will become more episodic, hopefully with humor, plot twists, and short-lived angst.✨Notes galore for anyone who wants to geek out with me. It's not 100% Regency kosher, but I tried.Thank you for reading! I have adored many stories on this site and am so grateful to the storytellers for the hours of fun I've had devouring their work. Long live Sanditon!    ✨Lady Clare✨
Relationships: Charlotte Heywood/Sidney Parker
Comments: 557
Kudos: 442





	1. A Fortuitous Meeting

Monday  
30 November 1818

Charlotte Heywood had been standing in the queue outside the domestic service agency on Dorset Street since almost two o’clock, nearly two hours. She glanced down the street and noted the dimming outlines of the buildings. Winter twilight was a dreary affair in London and brought with it a deepening chill, and for her, diminished hopes. 

Office hours were nearly over. She had been in London for more than a week, looking for a position that would be her perch from which to build a new life now that she was on her own. So far all she had secured was a morning dishwashing job at the tavern near Mrs. Jennings’ house where she had rented a room for the week, but she felt pressed to find something better as soon as possible. She was not too proud for the work, but there was a problem. She had caught the bartender leering at her more than once with enough dark intention in his eyes that she knew it would be wise not to return tomorrow. 

Charlotte could no longer feel her toes, and her knuckles, chapped from hours in hot water at the tavern and cold nights in her room, caught painfully on the inside of her gloves every time she moved her fingers. In her usual way, she was quickly annoyed with herself for letting her physical discomfort take a toll on her spirits. A deep breath righted her resolve. She was next in line and, with a little luck, she would secure the last meeting of the day with the hiring clerk. 

____________

Mr. Tom Parker was leaning on the stone mantle in his study, brandy in hand, relaxing in the low light of late afternoon at Bedford Place. His eyes flitted and twinkled above the lively fire as he contemplated his latest development scheme for the seaside resort town of Sanditon. In a few hours, his dear wife, Mary, and their four children were due to arrive in the city to spend several weeks before Christmas shopping for special gifts, attending social and cultural events, and promoting Sanditon to the beau monde.

“Bollocks!” exclaimed Tom, breaking the calm warmth of the room. He’d forgotten to send for a new maid. 

He’d promised Mary he would see to it after he realized how little he had been around for her and the children. He also knew he was not managing the business of Sanditon as seamlessly as he led her to believe. A tug of guilt about what he was hiding crept into his chest nearly every time he looked into her eyes as of late. She trusted him, loved him so completely, and he could not stand to have her think badly of him.

“Mary, you are doing enough, caring for the children and managing Trafalgar House while I’m in London on business. I’ll see to it!” he’d said as he stepped into the carriage to London last week. 

But then he forgot. There was always more Sanditon business to occupy his mind. The resort was still in its infancy, but matters would get better when they had more investors and its popularity with the beau monde was secured. At least, that is what he told himself. 

If only he had remembered to hire the housemaid earlier in the week, he could have requested the agency send a few candidates to the house to be interviewed by Mrs. Van White, the housekeeper. Unfortunately, with it so near the end of the day, he would have to go himself. If he did not want to disappoint Mary, again. 

____________

Charlotte had thought that she might be placed with a family as early as today if she was willing to take whatever was offered, so she had brought her bag of belongings with her. Now her mouth twisted in a little frown as she looked at it, knowing she would be fortunate just to get in her meeting with the agency before having to return to her room for the night. 

She knew from previous experience that the streets were not a good place to be after dark, so she was anxious to be on her way. One evening after dinner she’d stepped out from the front entryway of the flat for some fresh air. Instead, she felt sickened by the acrid scent of human and animal detritus, much stronger even than she’d experienced on the farm. Was the smell actually worse after dark or was it an illusion born of contrast with the many evenings she had spent inhaling salubrious breezes under the stars in the meadows by her family’s estate? _The countryside had a number of things to recommend it_ , she mused. But that time and place seemed out of reach now.

The city smells were not the actual hazard, anyway. After dark, the side streets of London were frighteningly dim and populated with very different characters than during the daytime. To Charlotte, there were two kinds of people in her neighborhood at night: those involved in nefarious business and those on the cusp of falling victim to their schemes. 

Charlotte’s brave nature and resilient outlook did not prepare her for, and could not protect her from, the darkness of the city--at any time of day. _Only a good job in a respectable home holds promise for me here_ , she thought, and she was not ready to give up. 

As if prompted by her musings, the front door of the agency opened, and a bespectacled clerk stepped out with a clipped little gait. But it was not good news. His eyes peered vaguely down the short line, but then he spoke as if he was addressing a queue all the way to Windsor. In a sharp, needly voice, he announced, “All remaining applicants shall need to return tomorrow.” 

With that, the man ducked his head, turned, and hurried through the door to lock it at a quarter to the hour without explanation.

 _No wonder his eyes darted past me and the others so quickly_ , she thought with disdain as she rolled her eyes and frowned. The man’s unfeeling, evasive manner had irritated Charlotte. Sincerity and candor were fundamental to her nature, qualities that when she found them lacking in others quickly ignited the irritable aspect of her temperament. 

In this moment Charlotte allowed herself to feel disheartened and her gaze dropped. Staring at a knothole in the sidewalk, she considered what to do tomorrow. She would need to return to the tavern again, unless she intended to risk more of her small savings without an income. 

So lost in thought, she was oblivious to the carriage speeding down the street toward the agency until it came to an abrupt halt only a few feet in front of her. A lanky, fair-haired, flustered gentleman sprung from the door and landed awkwardly on the edge of the sidewalk. He cursed under his breath and grabbed his ankle for a few moments, hopping on one foot, but then seemed to refocus on his mission and hobbled quickly to the entrance of the agency where he began to bang desperately on the door. 

Charlotte’s curiosity had the best of her as she waited to see what luck the ruddy-faced gentleman might have soliciting someone to open it.

After what seemed like forever but was probably less than a minute of knocking and yelling, an irritated voice called from the inside, as it opened, “I told you to come back tomorrow!” 

The clerk from earlier peeked through the door and then registered the man’s face. His voice softened just a touch, but his eyes remained stern. “Oh. Mr. Parker.”

“Mr. Parker, we are closed for today.”

“But surely you can help me. I can’t disappoint Mary…Mrs. Parker again! Please!” 

The man’s face grew more impatient, unmoved. “If you must know, an unfortunate incident at one of our best clients between a scullery maid and the woman’s two precious cats means I have to travel to Belgravia to sort it before I can go home.” He appeared more harried now, but still dismissive. “I haven’t anyone to recommend to you until we interview more candidates. I presume you are looking for someone on short notice.”

“But, but…”

“I’m sorry, Mr. Parker. We simply can’t accommodate your needs this afternoon.”

With that, the door swung shut and the lock clicked with finality. 

“Oh, why does this sort of thing always happen to me?” muttered Mr. Parker as he pressed his palm to his forehead, squeezed his eyes shut, and turned to collapse his back against the building. He looked, for all the world, like he had just lost an entire fortune instead of failing to find a maid on deadline. 

Charlotte stared at him, trying to decide if she should say something. _It could be just the sort of luck I need._ But surely it wasn’t her place to approach him.

As she walked past the distraught Mr. Parker, he moved suddenly, forgetting his injured ankle, and stumbled over the weakened joint right into Charlotte, sending her over the edge of the curb and into a muddy puddle on the street. 

“Oh!”

“OH!”

He looked annoyed at her momentarily, as if it was her fault, but then realized it was him who had been lost in thought, again, and he apologized. 

“Miss. My apologies. I was quite distracted. I can hardly face my wife after this.” He added the last line mostly to himself, gesturing towards the door where his hopes of a last-minute solution had been dashed.

“It’s alright, sir,” but her face said otherwise as she looked down at her dress, not relishing the idea of cleaning it before returning tomorrow. It was one of only two that still fit her, and the other was in need of mending.

As Mr. Parker was wont to do, he suddenly had an idea. 

“Wait. Please, Miss,” he called after her. “Are you seeking employment?”

He wasn’t sure why, but he possessed a strong sentiment that she would be the perfect fit, or at least a suitable cover for his mistake. Although she appeared somewhat uncertain, she also had a polished manner, bright eyes, and an air of hard work about her. 

“Yes, sir. I am.”

With a small step forward, he beamed at her, obviously now in full pursuit, “Mr. Tom Parker, in search of a new maid.” He bowed his head slightly.

Charlotte considered herself a quick study of people. Possessed of a mind seldom at rest, she often pieced together the manner and countenance of a person to predict how they would act and what character they would exhibit under various circumstances. She searched the face of this twinkly eyed gentleman. Could she trust him? His dress was quite fine, and his manner was almost theatrical. His open face, though perhaps too eager, possessed a certain kindness and hopefulness that Charlotte had not seen on another face in a very long time. His eyes danced with his prospective proposition. He obviously hoped that she was the answer to his predicament.

Mr. Parker interpreted her studied gaze as hesitancy and moved with haste to elaborate on the implied offer. 

“We can offer you a housemaid position at an above market rate which you can discuss with my wife when she arrives in London later tonight. Duties will be housekeeping, nothing too arduous that a person such as yourself hasn’t done before, and you will report to our housekeeper, the most congenial Mrs. Van White, who has been with the Parker family for going on seven years. I believe you will find our household a fine place for employment and the arrangement most agreeable.”

He sounded like a talking billboard or traveling salesman, but he seemed earnest and smiled at her expectantly, like her agreement was a forgone conclusion. Except that he still looked nervous.

“Charlotte Heywood, sir,” she said, tilting her head courteously. “Your offer is quite suitable. Thank you.” She almost said “generous,” but she did not wish to sound too eager or inexperienced. She had never been a maid before and didn’t want to tip her hand. Fortunately, he didn’t ask for references. 

__________

During the carriage ride to the Parker residence, the gentleman’s distress yielded to relief and then elation at having located the answer to his latest problem. Somehow, it made him feel like ALL of his problems were solved. He thought about sharing his excitement about his latest plans for Sanditon with her but he was unsure if the new maid would have any appreciation for such a thing. Besides, her position in society certainly could not advantage his project in any way. Still, his enthusiasm eventually bubbled over. 

“Have you ever visited the sea coast?” he launched across to his captive audience. 

Charlotte started out of her quiet thoughts. _Goodness, he is energetic. No restraint about him._

“Uh, no sir.”

Not to be dissuaded, Mr. Parker tried again. “Have you heard of Sanditon, then?”

“I’m afraid not, sir,” Charlotte said with a slight grimace, not wanting to disappoint the man.

Mr. Parker would not be put off. He locked eyes with her and began with fervor, “Sanditon is, or very soon will be, the finest seaside resort on the whole of the south coast. With shops, a hotel, new terrace apartments, assembly rooms, and the cliff walk, it is a perfect holiday destination. The sea air is better than any medicine or tonic, and the sea bathing is second to none. It’s where the sea coast meets civilization at its finest.” He finished his sentence with his palm arcing dramatically above him, his fingers running across imaginary words that hung in the air as he spoke. He was quite pleased that his audience was still following his every word.

Charlotte proffered a question, hoping to gain a bit more information about her new employer’s family, but also a little worried she might be crossing a line of impertinence by asking something more personal in nature. 

“And your family, Mr. Parker. Do they enjoy the sea coast?”

A knowledge of the finer rules of class etiquette had not been needed at the farm, but she was sure that erring on the side of restraint would have been more prudent. If she’d committed a faux pas, Mr. Parker’s reaction gave no clue. 

“They love it! My siblings Arthur and Diana swear by the sea air for its calming effects, and our resident investor, Lady Denham, takes a half a tumbler of sea water every morning.” 

As he finished, Tom’s countenance dropped into a look of pensive concern for he realized in that moment that he had not visited the beach with Mary and the children since the end of the summer. Although it was much colder now, he knew that Mary still took the children quite frequently whenever the weather allowed. Not only that, he could not remember the last time she invited him along. 

_Confound it. Mary deserves a more attentive husband. I will do better when we return to Sanditon._

____

With Tom’s exuberance chastened and his tale abruptly halted, Charlotte was left to look outside through the gap in the carriage curtains as best she could. The bustle of other carriages and noise along the high street had been left behind for quiet streets of fashionable, stately homes, glowing with the promise of cleanliness, warmth, and an abundance of everything comfortable. The entrances were wide and welcoming, the façades cleaned of the soot that covered the rest of London, and a cheerful light emanated from many of the windows. 

____

Charlotte had a difficult time believing that she was on her way to such a grand home and would soon be inside, even if it was to serve as a maid. They were in a very fine area of London. 

____

__________

____

Charlotte leaned out the open door of the carriage in front of the Parker residence and noticed the air had changed. The damp smog, so common in London in November, had been chased away by a rare, steady breeze from the south. As she alighted the carriage, her eyes lifted toward the rooftops from whence the mild breeze came and then further upward to the clear, sparkling night sky. Stars were a rare sight in London. 

____

Her worries from less than an hour ago had retreated. She knew that as a maid she wouldn’t be coming and going through the dignified front entrance after tonight, but she was so grateful for this view after months of struggle and a week in the rough scrabble world of London without a good job or ties to another soul. She had been smart enough to spend some of her savings, so she wasn’t letting a room in the slums, but London was still far from hospitable for a young woman on her own. 

____

Warm light filtered through the draperies of the ground floor windows, and elegant streetlamps and a bright moon gently lit the front courtyard, as well. A pair of perfectly symmetrical six-foot bay laurel topiaries stood on either side of the front entrance, the stone planters rimmed in a pattern of red and white blooming cyclamen and variegated ivy. Snow dusted the edges of the flagstone patio and over the ferns and boxwood planted in neat, rectangular garden beds. 

____

Charlotte knew that not everything was necessarily blissful inside elegant homes such as the Parkers’. Still, she had a good feeling about what was to come, even with Mr. Parker’s somewhat mercurial disposition. Taking a thought from his earlier musings on Sanditon’s merits, Charlotte realized that the Parker residence was itself a welcoming sight of civilization, one that she had not dared to hope was in her future just an hour ago. 

____

__________

____

Once inside, Mr. Parker began to ask Mr. Jenkins, the butler, to show Charlotte to the servants’ rooms to meet Mrs. Van White, but before he could finish, a lovely woman, about the same age as Mr. Parker, with flaxen hair, rosy cheeks, and the warmest blue eyes Charlotte had ever seen, walked into the front hallway. 

____

“Mary! You’re here early!” cried Tom. 

____

Bless him. He tried to lace his surprise with pure joy, but his voice belied his panic. He knew he’d been caught bringing home the new maid at the very last minute.

____

“Yes, Tom,” smiled Mary, knowingly. “I wanted to get here well before supper. I thought we could spend some time together, as a family, before the children go to bed. But who do we have here?” She raised an interested eyebrow with a gentle smile at Charlotte, seeking an introduction.

____

It was impossible to imagine a kinder-looking soul. To a keen eye, Mrs. Parker would have looked a little tired. She had spent the better part of the day traveling with small children, and was looking forward to finishing the day, not welcoming a newly hired maid. But being Mary Parker, she met Charlotte without a trace of annoyance or a hint at the inconvenience. 

____

“This is Miss Charlotte Heywood. I’ve just personally secured her as our new maid. I think she’ll be a wonderful addition to the Parker domestic staff.” Tom was particularly effusive in his tone, as he was whenever he had scant details of a subject at hand. Since he had not interviewed Charlotte or even talked with her about her background or qualifications in the carriage, he found himself overcompensating once again.

____

“Good evening. I’m Mrs. Mary Parker.”

____

For a moment, so warm was her greeting, Charlotte almost forgot that she was meeting her as the new domestic help and not as a special relation of distant kinship. 

____

“Charlotte Heywood, ma’am,” she replied with a curtsy.

____

“We’re pleased to have you. Normally, I would send you to meet Mrs. Van White, but seeing the hour, she will be busy, and I am available to meet with you for a few minutes to discuss your position and introduce you to the children. Let’s step into the sitting room.”

____

“Thank you very much, ma’am.” 

____

Charlotte was starting to get nervous again. _What if Mrs. Parker doesn’t want me to stay? What if I have to tell her I have no previous experience? What if Mr. Parker’s rash hiring leaves me in a precarious position this evening?_ She tried to calm her breathing, smooth her long brown curls, and straighten her dress as she followed Mrs. Parker into the room. 

____

She led her to a pair of armchairs in front of the fireplace. Charlotte’s cheeks were still quite red from the hours in the cold and she appreciated the warmth, which didn’t seem to be lost on Mrs. Parker from her brief glances at her complexion.

____

“Well, have you been told much about the position, Charlotte?”

____

“Only that it is a housemaid position, ma’am.”

____

“Oh, so the agency didn’t give you any details?” 

____

“No, ma’am.” It seemed imprudent to lie, for if Mrs. Parker had any contact with the agency, she would know she wasn’t hired through them. “Mr. Parker and I spoke directly outside the agency this afternoon.” Best to keep it simple. 

____

“I see. Well, the position is open, was open, because our previous maid left rather abruptly at the end of the summer and I haven’t been here to oversee the hiring of a new maid. The truth is, the position is likely temporary as the children and I are not here often so there is not normally a need for an additional maid. But as the entire family will be here, coming and going, for the next few weeks, and with Christmas approaching, there is extra work. We will pay you a bonus of 20% for the next three weeks, or until we return to Sanditon, to compensate for the lack of security we’re able to offer. We will also provide you with an excellent reference at the end of the time if your work is satisfactory. I am sorry that these terms were not communicated to you before.”

____

Charlotte struggled to keep her countenance from faltering. She had very much hoped that this would be her final stop for the foreseeable future, but she decided not to think about that now. Better to be grateful for the opportunity and make the most of it. 

____

“Thank you, ma’am. Those are generous terms and more than satisfactory.”

____

“So, what is your background, Charlotte?” Mary could tell by her speech and dress that, at least at one time, she had come from a different station to most maids. She was quite well spoken, her curtsy was crisp and proper, and her dress was made of a high-quality rose-colored muslin with excellent embroidery on the collar and hem, although it was showing signs of wear and fading. Regrettably, it appeared that she had encountered one of the ubiquitous patches of city mud fairly recently, as well.

____

Charlotte couldn’t think of a way to cover for her circumstances and wouldn’t have wanted to lie to this lovely woman, in any case. 

____

“Ma’am. I’ve been working at a temporary job until today. I only just arrived in London a week ago. This is my first position as a housemaid.” Charlotte hoped her trembling voice wouldn’t add to the impression of under qualification.

____

Mrs. Parker looked a bit puzzled at this information, but held Charlotte’s gaze, still feeling there was something special about this young woman, even if it wasn’t her qualifications.

____

“I see. Where are you from originally?”

____

“Willingden, ma’am. I was raised on a farm there.” Charlotte wasn’t sure if she should share any more details of her story, that when she was a girl, her parents owned the estate, but that they had both passed, and the farm was sold to a bank for a small sum. In its entirety, it was a long tale.

____

Mary considered telling Charlotte that they didn’t normally hire inexperienced domestic staff but thought better of it. Hiring new servants, particularly maids and other lower-level servants, often ended in trouble, either with theft or a lack of work ethic. She didn’t think Charlotte possessed the traits that would make either of those a concern. With a bit of luck and hard work, she might work out well, even if only for a short time. That said, she would need to be a quick study.

____

“Well, let’s see how the next few days go. Mrs. Van White will review your wages and provide you with basic training in your duties. We already have two maids who see to the dish and linen washing and the chamber pots. I think it will be better if you bridge the gap between the duties of Lydia and Harriet and Mrs. Van White and handle the front of house tasks like the fireplaces and coal supplies, dusting, and floors. You must be quite familiar with the general running of a household if you grew up on a farm,” she smiled. “Of course, whatever Mrs. Van White asks of you, I do hope you’ll give her your best work. I’ll give you a tour of the rooms upstairs right now while no one is present in them, but the children, and then we can settle you downstairs before the servant’s early meal.” 

____

“Thank you very much, ma’am,” answered Charlotte with a timid smile, relieved that Mrs. Parker was willing to give her a chance. 

____

__________

____

The rooms in Bedford Place were more beautiful than in any home she had ever seen, with fine furnishings, luxurious wallcoverings, and beautiful linens in all the rooms. The closest she had come to seeing such things firsthand was when she was a young child and had visited her Uncle Stephen and Aunt Beatrice in a lovely home in Bloomsbury. He was her father’s brother, but they had surrendered their leasehold many years ago to travel abroad. After her father’s death, the family’s solicitor, Mr. Cravath, had not located the couple. Then, after her mother’s death, when it was of the utmost importance to her and her siblings that their closest relation be found, her brother Matthew had voiced his bitter speculation that Mr. Cravath was even less committed to finding them as there was so little left in the estate to cover his expenses. For some months, Charlotte had held out hope that her aunt and uncle’s whereabouts would be uncovered. But now, it was highly unlikely, for even if they returned to England, she and her siblings were no longer in Willingden and the brothers had not been close in many years prior to her father’s passing. 

____

As they made their way to the first bedrooms, Mrs. Parker mentioned that in a few days, two of Mr. Parker’s siblings would be arriving, Arthur and Diana. She showed Charlotte their rooms and asked her to check their coal scuttle boxes twice per day, instead of the usual once, as they were both quite susceptible to chills and tended to go through more coal than average. Charlotte wondered if they were ill but thought it improper to ask. 

____

As if reading her mind, Mrs. Parker said with a muddled look, “Well, it’s a sensitivity, you might say, rather than an illness.” 

____

__________

____

Upon entering the final bedroom, Charlotte felt something shift inside her. The room was obviously unoccupied, but a subtly stimulating fragrance lingered. A strange sensation, a sort of mild headiness overtook her. Slowly and discreetly, she inhaled a full breath, until she could take in no more, trying to discern its essence. The scents of tobacco, leather, cloves, oranges, and something else she could not decipher drove her to distraction. It smelled distinctive, and unmistakably of a man. 

____

Her eyes searched the room in the dim candlelight and were drawn to a half-height bookcase along the wall adjacent to the fireplace. Taking a few steps closer, Charlotte recognized a number of titles and authors, including one volume identical to a book she had kept with her since leaving her family home. The curator of the small collection was partial to philosophers, poets, and an English landscape architect or two. 

____

Fortunately, Mrs. Parker was otherwise occupied, walking around the room to find the source of a pesky draught. Eventually, she remarked that the flue appeared to be partially open and pushed the lever to tighten it.

____

Charlotte turned from the bookcase and noticed a beautiful plaid blanket draped over one of the armchairs. Unconsciously, Charlotte brushed her fingertips across its fine texture, seeking to ground herself on something in this room that had stirred her in a new and unsettling way. She pulled her hand back abruptly, and was thankful to see Mrs. Parker walking toward the window. She hadn’t seen her blunder. 

____

Although her mind told her it was silly to be affected by a room, Charlotte’s near-intoxication was so undeniable that she finally allowed herself to simply revel in its enveloping masculine warmth until Mrs. Parker spoke again. 

____

She turned and gestured to her, pulling her out of her reverie. “Come and look outside. Isn’t it a beautiful night? The window from your room in the attic has a similar view,” she added, smiling at the sight of the pretty moonlit rear garden. Charlotte felt seen again by Mrs. Parker’s thoughtfulness for her circumstances, and hoped that, somehow, she had a future in the service of this impressive woman.

____


	2. The First Rule

Tuesday  
1 December 1818  


Well before the servants’ morning wake-up call, Charlotte woke with a start. It was an upshot of being a farmer’s daughter; her internal clock rarely failed her. On her first day as the new maid, she intended to be punctual with time to spare.

Sitting up and stretching her arms into the chilly room, she thought of how well she had slept. The full set of linens and woolen blankets had provided more warmth than any bed she’d slept in since the colder months began. She lit a candle and smiled, thinking of the good feelings of the night before: Mrs. Parker, with her consideration and kindness on their house tour; then meeting her darling children, Alicia, Henry, Jenny, and baby James in the nursery, along with the amiable governess, Sara. The intoxicating scent from the last bedroom had wafted over her several more times in the evening. She could have sworn it was just a memory, but it was so palpable--a pleasurable enigma. It also helped that Mrs. Van White had been personable when she met her, as advertised by Mr. Parker, even if Charlotte surmised some skepticism about her lack of experience. 

But with that last thought, her brow furrowed, and a frown replaced her smile. The anxiety she had for the day ahead began to color her memories of the night before. And it was true: not everything about the evening before had been pleasant. 

Charlotte’s mind began to list all the ways it had not been smooth sailing as she checked her dress for persistent mud stains after its laundering last night. The other maids’ reception was tepid at the servants’ dinner. It was disappointing. She had hoped that maybe Lydia and Harriet would be friendlier, being likewise young and in similar positions. Then there was one of the footmen, Edward, who reminded her of the bartender at the tavern in how he looked at her. Footmen had a deserved reputation for being tall, handsome types, for they were employed to deal with visitors and attend the household when they were out on excursions. He was certainly that, but he also oozed of something else entirely. When she was alone in the linens room after dinner, he had approached her. 

_How had he made talking about linens seem so improper? “Ah, look, it’s Miss Charlotte, Lily of the Linen Closet.” Then had he bowed like a pompous Duke of some miscellaneous shire. “Do you not think, Miss Heywood, that creamy, translucent linen draped over one’s naked skin is most sublime?” Another wolf in a different costume,_ she rolled her eyes. 

Still, here at the Parkers, she did feel protected. Mrs. Van White and Mr. Jenkins didn’t seem to be the sort to tolerate misconduct. Edward was an aberration and not a good match for the Parker household, or perhaps any domestic situation, and she wondered why he had been hired.

Thinking back to the maids, she hoped Harriet and Lydia didn’t feel she had unfairly waltzed in to take the preferred cleaning jobs. Dishes, laundry, and chamber pots on the scale of a large household were serious drudgery, and many maids didn’t last in that kind of service. She could understand if they were resentful, but it didn’t make it easier and it wasn’t her choice that she was to be more front of house. Whatever the reason, they had been obvious in their whisperings about her and neither had addressed her directly, except to render the most perfunctory of greetings. 

What really sent Charlotte into a spiral, as she dressed and brushed her hair, was her emergent belief that she had committed something of a fraud in accepting Mr. Parker’s offer. It was obvious that Mr. Parker had been desperate, and she had not earned the position on her merits. When she sought employment through the agency, she anticipated an offer for a lesser position in a modest household where she could learn the finer points of being part of a household staff. The Parker family was an established household, presumably with ties to the aristocracy and connections to the beau monde for all she knew. She would be expected to excel at her work, especially given that Mrs. Parker required her services for an intensive season just before the holidays. 

_This is no time to be learning my trade! They might even be entertaining guests and I am the house maid second in line to the housekeeper! What am I doing here? And surely Mrs. Van White shouldn’t be spending her precious time training me, a novice, in maid duties, and yet I have no experience with performing most of these tasks as one would in such a fine home._

It was with those thoughts that she made her way down the three flights of stairs into the kitchen.

__________

Charlotte helped herself to tea in the servants’ room. It wasn’t long before Mrs. Van White entered, her bright brown eyes communicating that she was ready to get down to business. In her many years in service, the housekeeper had seen maids come and go. Charlotte appeared eager to please and ready to work; the question was, how quickly could she be useful? Hopefully she would respond well to instruction. 

For her part, Charlotte already admired Mrs. Van White for her professional manner, observant comportment, and air of efficiency. She was sure she could learn much from her, and maybe she would give her a chance to prove herself. 

“Charlotte, please follow me to my sitting room so we can discuss your responsibilities. Servants’ breakfast will be served at 8am. You will need to have your first tasks completed by then.” Businesslike, but pleasant, was Mrs. Van White.

Almost an hour later, after receiving general instructions and touring the rooms in the servants’ area, Charlotte proceeded to the main floor with her orders: dust the furniture, refill the coal scuttle boxes, and sweep the floors. Because of her extra time with Mrs. Van White, the footmen would take care of starting the fireplaces, but starting tomorrow, it would be her task. Later, after the family had left their rooms to break their fast, she was to head upstairs to fill those coal boxes and dust. When the staff took a short break at lunchtime, they would meet again to discuss the afternoon chores. 

__________

 _Oh, bother,_ thought Charlotte, in a mild sweat, as she sat down to breakfast almost two hours later. Truth be told, the morning was going quite poorly. 

The tea leaves used to absorb the dust and grime on the floor had been sopping wet. Water had pooled across the hard floor and ran to the edge of the carpet, threatening to stain it. She had dashed through the kitchen looking for towels or rags to mop up the extra water and almost ran into the cook, Mrs. Waters. She got quite a look for that! _Of course there is no running in the kitchen,_ she chastened herself. The feather duster made Charlotte sneeze. Repeatedly. When she went to retrieve coal to from the coal vault, she hadn’t noticed the floor was covered in fine, black dust. When she stood up, her skirt edge was covered in soot. _There goes looking presentable!_

Only a few minutes ago, she had knocked a planter onto its side in the study that she didn’t see behind her. It didn’t break, but the sound of ceramic hitting the floor had echoed through the house. Mr. Jenkins had peaked his head around the corner with a grimace. He tried to be kind. As her horrified eyes met his, he’d nodded and tried to lose the furrow and frown on his face, but it was not convincing. One didn’t have to be from the upper classes to know that servants are to be silent and invisible. She could only hope Mr. and Mrs. Parker weren’t in the dining room, yet. 

Charlotte was almost in tears. _I’m not cut out to be a maid! Maybe marrying that boy in Willingden wouldn’t have been so bad after all. Oh, what a stupid thought. He bullied younger children, his father was known to cheat at cards, and his mother never had a kind word for anyone. It is what it is._

__________

It was half past nine when Sidney Parker awoke to a loud knock on his door by a footman with an urgent message. Sidney pushed himself up and back into the pillows, rubbed his face, and ran his fingers through his hair to rouse himself.

_Dried mud in my hair? Grit on the pillow? Oh right. The road from Sanditon had been a mess._

"Come in," he called.

Taking the note, he saw that it was from the shipping clerk, as he suspected. It was an update informing him that the Thames river traffic was congested, almost at a standstill as it was more often than not these days, and his ship would be delayed. No response was needed. 

“Thank you, Thomas. That will be all,” he said to the footman. “Actually, would you have the half bath sent up as soon as possible?”

Sidney had arrived at Bedford Place in the middle of the night, depleted after riding his ebony steed by only the moonlight over many miles with a single stop at an inn for a late dinner. Yesterday he had received word that one of his ships, the _Odysseus_ , had been attacked in October in the West Indies, likely by the infamous pirate Roberto Confresí, a fallen nobleman from Puerto Rico who had been taking ships captive for months in the West Indies. He understood that crew had fought them off, only sustaining a few injuries and no loss of cargo, but the ship would need extensive repairs to the port side. With the damaged hull, they had been lucky to avoid any storms this time of year on their return, aided by avoiding the easterly trade winds and slipping into the more favourable westerlies and traveling by way of the Azores. 

He had decided he wanted to be in London to greet the captain and crew when the ship arrived sometime today to thank them and make plans for the delay in the next sailing. It would affect his export clients considerably and he wanted to manage that himself, not to mention it would keep him out of reach of Tom’s constant reveries and agitations about Sanditon.

__________

Charlotte had one last room to check for coal supplies. She doubted the box would need filling since the room was unoccupied, but she wanted to be thorough. And admittedly, the aura of that room was one she would enjoy revisiting whenever she had the chance. 

Charlotte pushed the door open with haste, ready to take in…

NOT what she saw in front of her. 

_Whoa.  
That’s...  
That’s…._

_I am in so much trouble._

__________

 _Standing shin deep in a basin of water is hardly a substitute for sea bathing in the cove,_ Sidney thought as he reached for a towel and exhaled. _But I’m more ready for the day now._

Or so he thought. 

As he toweled his hair, he sensed a motion at the door, off his flank. He looked over and was quite unready for what he saw. A petite young woman in an apron stood transfixed in the doorway, staring at him. Her brown eyes were wide with shock but also very much taking him in, all of him. 

He stopped moving and looked at her curiously. He wasn’t sure what to do. 

He was in his own bedroom. She had obviously already taken full measure of his entire form. Well, save his feet, perhaps. 

Her cheeks were flushed and two perfect coal dust fingerprints marked her dimpled chin.

“Can I help you?” he ventured through a lopsided grin, rather bemused. 

At his first syllable, Charlotte found her wits enough to turn around and face toward the hallway.

“I’m…. I’m terribly sorry……sir.” Then she stammered defensively, “No one…no one was _supposed_ to be in here.”

“This is MY room.” Sidney answered with a harsher voice, put off that she would imply he was somehow at fault. 

_His room??_ “Oh. Of course,” she said, pretending she knew that. “Only the door wasn’t shut all the way.”

“I’m QUITE sure that it was,” he scoffed. “And in any case, you ought to have knocked.”

Charlotte was beginning to appreciate that she was arguing with a man not terribly much older than herself---indeed, an incredibly well-built and very naked man, with a deeply resonant voice, and striking brown eyes--who was a guest of the Parkers and that it was not something she should be doing. 

Steeling her shoulders, Charlotte spoke with as much strength as she could muster so her voice would carry back into the room, “I beg your pardon, sir. My sincerest apologies. I will leave now.”

___________

As soon as Charlotte stepped into the hallway and closed the door, a horrible feeling that her hopes of a new start were ending began to compete with the astonishing sight she had just seen. 

_The man is obviously upset. What if he complains about the incident? It certainly isn’t going to matter that the door had been left ajar…or had it?_

If she was honest, she wasn’t so sure anymore. She knew that she had assumed the room was empty from the night before and she had been distracted in her thoughts, recollecting the effect it had had on her and wondering if it would be the same by the light of day. 

_And “his room” …what had he meant by that? His room as a guest? Did he stay with the Parkers regularly? Was he the curator of the small library?_

Shaking further thoughts from her head, she knew it was unacceptable to have argued with him, with her excuses and accusations. With self-awareness came a crisis vis-à-vis her position as a servant: _Oh, sod it. I’m not cut out to be a maid! I am too argumentative, too plain-spoken, too…undeferential. And I’m allergic to dust._

She failed to see any humor in it, though. There was no way she would be keeping her job at the Parker residence. The other events of the morning were bad enough. Now this humiliation. Maybe it was time to quit while she was ahead, or at least not so far behind that they fired her. She didn’t know if she could face that prospect or having to discuss any of this with Mrs. Van White or Mrs. Parker.

__________ 

Sidney emerged from his room smirking and shaking his head as he thought of the maid’s gaze and her retorts. Her attention had been rapt until he had spoken, but why? He wasn’t sure what to make of her response. Sidney knew he was attractive, striking even. He often found himself on the receiving end of female attention so he rather thought her reaction could not have been one of horror. 

This was not to say he was vain. He liked fine clothes and spent money on the best tailoring, but he wasn’t superficial in his thinking and he was well-aware that outward beauty was no guarantee of returned affections. But her look puzzled him. She seemed innocent enough standing there. He suspected she hadn’t seen a man fully naked before, at least not in such close proximity. But she didn’t carry herself like a bashful girl either and, judging by her banter, she was hardly timid or shy. Feisty was more like it. Perhaps her gaze was more than one thing.

Such were his thoughts as he headed down to the kitchen to find something to eat. He had missed breakfast after sleeping in, for the Parkers scheduled breakfast on the early side of other London families and Mary hadn’t known he was coming. In truth, he was also curious if the housemaid had let the cat out of the bag to anyone downstairs. It was unlikely, but Sidney’s experience had cautioned him that he should know better than to predict the actions of young women.

As he descended from the landing at the top of the stairs above the back door, he caught sight of someone he thought was her, dashing out the door, bag in hand. When she reached to pull the door closed behind her, their eyes locked once again. If he’d had any doubt, her look of determination and vexation told him that he was likely the reason for what appeared to be a hasty departure. 

_Sigh._ He should probably go and tell Mary they were going to be short a maid. 

__________

Charlotte was flustered. She hadn’t expected to see him again. _Who was this man who seemed to so omnipresent, so…ubiquitous? His room practically haunted me last night, stimulating as it was, then he shows up unannounced in a bath, and now he catches me leaving._ As she left through the back garden, she checked her memory to make sure it was indeed the same man, that she wasn’t imagining things. It wasn’t an unpleasant task, to be sure. 

The gentleman on the stairs wore an exceedingly handsome ensemble of black leather, linen, silk, and black wool, complete with a top hat and cane. His rugged face was set with deep brown eyes, a strong, straight nose and a generous mouth. Similarly, she had catalogued a great deal about the man in the bath in the short time she’d appraised him--not limited to his broad shoulders, well-developed chest, rippled stomach and an incredibly distracting line of hair below his navel that led to what can only be described as an education. She had also registered his intense brown eyes, dark look, full lips and a jaw that was predisposed to twitch. 

_Yes, they are unmistakably the same man._

_Hmmm. He probably thinks I’m leaving because of him, because he thinks I’m young and easily unnerved._ She could admit that seeing him in all his glory set her off kilter, but truly, she felt that the morning hadn’t gone well, and she just wanted to leave before she was fired or, just as bad, embarrassed the Parkers. 

Had she been hasty in her departure? She wasn’t sure, but somehow, she would find another position, and this one had been temporary anyway. No use getting too attached to such a fine residence and family when she didn’t have the proper qualifications to be a maid in such a place anyway. 

__________

“The new maid has left?” Mary looked at him quizzically. “What do you mean she left? ...Sidney?” And there was the implied question: what did he have to do with it? 

Sidney was beginning to regret telling Mary himself. Fortunately, she didn’t ask exactly what had happened. 

Dealing as she did with children on a daily basis, Mary sensed that Sidney felt guilty about the maid’s departure and ventured a guess, based on the raised voices she’d heard down the hall earlier. She loved her brother-in-law, but he could be gruff sometimes.

“Sidney.” She looked at him, “Did you yell at her? Whatever for?”

He paused, not sure what to say, but he didn’t have to, as Mary continued.

“Sidney. I really liked her and now I have to find someone else on short notice,” she said, disappointed that her brother-in-law had let his abrupt nature scare off the new maid. “Unless you can get her back…” she said half-jokingly, looking at him sideways under her lashes, trying to lighten the mood. She knew that Sidney had a good heart, but his bruising past had made its mark on his demeanor.

Mary didn’t think rehiring the maid was likely for any number of reasons, but another day securing a new maid would put them further behind with Christmas preparations, especially with Arthur, Diana, and Georgiana arriving tomorrow, and all the rooms needing to be turned.

“I’ll see what I can do.” _What am I thinking? I have a ship to see to and it’s just a maid._

“Really? Well, Miss Charlotte Heywood is her name.” 

Mary was thinking. “Tom brought her back in the carriage last night, I believe. Perhaps the coachman knows something about where she might be headed.”

_Well, if it will help Mary, I will try._

__________

Charlotte had stopped at the end of the block to lean against the communal garden fence, weighing her options about what to do next. It was too late in the day to head to the tavern to try to get her position back, and they would be upset she hadn’t shown up this morning. So, she decided to head back to the agency. 

She wasn’t quite sure of the exact route, but she knew it was near Covent Garden on Dorset Street and she was somewhere west of there, judging by the “W” on a street sign at the end of the block. With the sun leaning off over her right shoulder, she knew that ahead of her was more or less easterly. It would do for now until she could ask for directions. 

She took a few more breaths, looked at the sky, and then exhaled and began to walk, letting go of the last sixteen hours and her future at the Parkers. 

__________

After a quick consultation with the coachman, Sidney figured she would be heading east, and she didn’t have a big lead on him, maybe five minutes. There was only one main road/high street that she was likely to use for the next half mile, for it was safer than the side streets and alleyways. She also had a bag, and was quite petite. All advantages. Maybe he should have saddled his horse, Flash, but he knew the sooner he covered the streets around Bedford Place, the less likely he was to lose her.

After a few minutes, Sidney thought he caught a glimpse of her light brown woven pelisse and dark curls bobbing out from under her straw bonnet a couple of blocks ahead of him. 

His long legs were useful to the pursuit and he lengthened his usually long stride, throwing in a few shuffle steps to dodge the midday foot traffic on the sidewalk. By now, he was quite sure it was her and he didn’t want to lose her as there were several crossroads ahead.

 _Damn it!_ It hit him. _What did Mary call her again? Miss Wooden? Miss Halliwell?_ He needed to get her attention and he really didn’t want to be seen chasing after the help all the way down the high street. With fake assurance he lobbed a rather forceful “Miss Hayweather!” her way. _If I say it with confidence, maybe it will be right, he opined. Bloody hell, I’m starting to think like Tom!_

___________

Charlotte had thought she’d seen the man from the Parkers following her a few blocks back when she had paused at a street crossing, but that seemed very odd. Before she could think much about it, she picked up speed and decided to take the next side street, figuring if it was him, she could avoid a third meeting in less than an hour. 

"Miss Hayweather!"

At the sound of his rich voice mangling her name, her desire to avoid another conversation with him was surpassed by her annoyance. She was so tired of feeling like she was of no consequence to anyone, with not even her name remaining intact. As he approached, she spoke with unveiled exasperation. “It’s Miss Charlotte _Heywood_ , sir.” Her features had come alive with her anger, her brown agate eyes stony with reproof and her voice filled with withering disdain that would have put any governess’ scolding to shame. 

Sidney: _Is that a dimple in her chin??_ He shook his head to refocus. _This is off to a regrettable start._

“Miss Heywood. My apologies.”  
“Mary has taken a liking to you and it seems I’ve put you off with my… appearance in the bath this morning. While I should REMIND you that knocking is ESSENTIAL to prevent AMBUSHES....” Several women who were walking in the street next to them turned to stare.

Charlotte and Sidney both turned and stared back at the ladies until they looked at each other, puffed, and walked on.

“I assure you, sir, it was not deliberate on my part. How was I to know of your presence in that room? Perhaps you should close and lock the door if you don’t want female domestic staff in your chambers.”

 _There she goes again_ , he thought. “You’re a bit cheeky for a maid.” 

Half chastened, for she knew he was right, her dimpled chin still jutted bit into the air with her injured pride. She really didn’t have to answer to him. She was on her way back to square one, anyway.

Sidney exhaled a sigh like it was a puff of smoke and a twitch of his mouth sent his wry grin sideways. 

Sidney’s head dropped, his voice lowered and quieted, and with his eyes fixed on hers, he attempted one more time to get down to the business of his errand. “Miss Heywood,” he started, using her proper name for he thought it best to provide some mannerly distance and redeem himself again for his mistake. “Mrs. Parker will have my head if I don’t return with you. (An exaggeration, to be sure.) Mary doesn’t know of the incident and I imagine both of us would prefer she doesn’t find out.” Sidney wasn’t sure why he cared, but something about this young woman made him feel that he was somehow culpable, as preposterous as that was. He continued, “Would you please consider returning with me? That is if you’re not too embarrassed.”

At first, he had the good sense to put himself at her mercy, but then he could not resist his last reference. 

It didn’t matter. It was all too much for Charlotte. His soothing baritone and golden flecked brown eyes weren’t lost on Charlotte. But instead of prompting her quick agreement, or her further ire for the teasing, his open gaze unleashed the stress of the last weeks and months and her eyes began to glisten. How was she supposed to go back to serve as a housemaid in such a fine home when she had no idea what she was doing? But then again, how could she not? Especially not when this square-jawed gentleman, the handsomest she’d ever seen, was requesting it? Well, maybe that was a bad idea.

Rather than continue to wrestle with these questions, she got ahold of herself by thinking to reply to his last inference, that she was embarrassed. She swallowed her sadness, lifted her chin and said with nonchalance, “Why should I be embarrassed, sir? I was fully clothed.”

Sidney was mystified and bemused. _Insolence followed by tears followed by bravery._ This woman was unlike any other he had known. 

“Well then.”

“Well then.”

Realizing nothing was actually settled between them or even in her mind, Charlotte turned her face to look over the tall London shopfronts to mull his request and show him she was considering his offer. She knew she gained nothing by declining it but the pride of staying her present course. Returning to the agency to begin her employment search again, and possibly even the tavern to support herself, were not very attractive propositions. Her mind tried to draw on any additional wisdom that she could apply to the situation. As she landed on her decision, she mused quietly to herself, “It has not been long enough to say that I’m trying to step into the same river twice. I’ve been gone only five minutes.” 

Sidney snapped out of his pensive posture. He’d been leaning on his cane, waiting for her reply. His head tilted askew and his smile lit up with amusement and a twinge of fascination, “What did you say?” 

Charlotte wasn’t sure how to take his mirth. Was he laughing at her? “Am I an amusement you? It’s just something from one of my father’s books.”

“Yes. It’s Heraclitus. You read philosophy?”

“Yes. But I don’t mean to be putting on airs.” Charlotte was worried she was speaking too much again. 

“Not at all. He’s one of my favorite philosophers.” _Why did I say that?_ Sidney thought to himself. _I’m conversing with the MAID. You’ve lost it, man._

“Oh.” Charlotte smiled tentatively and looked at him, trying to adjust to receiving a compliment from this man. 

Sidney didn’t want to admit it, but it was becoming apparent why he was conversing with the maid. Her dimpled chin was engaged with her shy smile and her eyes were softened by her first bit of trust in him. It was bringing her beauty to life even more than her anger had.

Charlotte needed to make sure Mr. Parker heard her answer before he could rescind his offer. “Yes. Yes, I will return with you. But, erm, are you not a guest of the Parkers?” 

“Oh.” Sidney realized he hadn’t introduced himself, though who could blame him given the circumstances of their first acquaintance. An expression of sheepishness washed quickly over his face: _It’s true that I may live a bit recklessly at times, but I still haven’t ever introduced myself to a woman while buck naked._

“Sidney Parker. Tom’s brother,” he nodded and tilted. He hoped he wasn’t actually blushing thinking about their earlier encounter. Her gaze unsettled him.

Charlotte’s brow furrowed with puzzlement, her big brown eyes telling him how unconvincing she thought this claim of sibling relationship was.

“It’s true,” he said, a bit bothered that her expression challenged him, though he knew the assertion of his sibling relationship with Tom never ceased to surprise new acquaintances. He just wasn’t used to such a forthright manner in the fairer sex, and certainly not from a maid. 

“Well, excellent. Mrs. Parker will be pleased. Shall we go, then? ”

Sidney Parker couldn’t suppress the feeling that it was more than Mrs. Parker who would be glad she would be returning. _Get ahold of yourself, Sidney. You really need a bit more excitement in your life if this is what gets you going._

When they returned to the residence, Sidney walked her back to the rear servants’ entrance. He’d remembered that he still hadn’t eaten, and he hoped that the cook would have something for a meal before he headed off to the wharf to wait for his ship to come into port. 

Once inside the doorway, Miss Heywood began to take off her pelisse, obviously warm and flushed from the walk. Sidney almost reached to help her with it but remembered, again, that she was the maid and it would be inappropriate. Instead, he stood back and noticed her rosy cheeks and her personal dress that was not covered by an apron. In their brief encounter in his room, he had appreciated her better than average looks, but had filed her under something resembling the heading of “attractive wallpaper.” 

He could see even more clearly now that Miss Heywood was not wallpaper of any sort. 

Her clothing, while certainly not fashionable for the higher classes of London and probably at least several years old, was made of the type of fabric and in the style of a country gentleman’s wife and daughters. It was clothing above her current station, and Sidney couldn’t help but wonder what had led her to the Parkers.

Again, he was thinking about the MAID. _Perhaps it would be safer if I stop for a bite at the Club before I invite Jenkins or one of the footmen to join me for cards at the pub. Boy, Sidney._

But he wasn’t safe. Over lunch at the Club, he couldn’t stop reliving the events of the morning. He thought of her blushing cheeks, her curling chestnut hair that shown with warmth in the midday sun. Her obvious uncertainty. Her stubbornness. (She really should have knocked.) And her love of philosophy, quoting Heraclitus, no less. 

Maybe it was just that this woman had seen him in the bath. It had been a long time since he’d been with a woman. And, she was new, a novelty, and she was working in his home. No, let’s just go with the new part. He didn’t want to think about how it might be running into her anywhere at any time at Bedford Place. 

__________

As Charlotte laid her head down on her pillow at the end of the day, she thought back over her first day as a maid. The morning had been incredibly rough, but the afternoon and evening had gone much more smoothly. And in between was her encounter with Mr. Sidney Parker. 

What to make of him? Mostly, it a puzzle for another day. She could already feel herself drifting off and he seemed to her a complicated man. However, she couldn’t help but think that he very much suited the essence of his room--his tall, muscular form, piercing brown eyes, and rugged manner--and that brought the stirring back. He was incredibly attractive, but also somewhat dark and rough and…closed off, too. At least that was how he seemed to her. 

Turning her thoughts to her work, she dearly hoped her skills as a maid would improve quickly over the coming days. She wasn’t sure she could take much more torment. 

Well, she had learned at least one thing about being a servant. _Perhaps,_ she thought, _it should be the first rule in a handbook of domestic service: Always, ALWAYS, knock before entering._

She then giggled, and blushed, surprised by her next thought as she felt herself drifting off to sleep. _Or perhaps not._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Regency Geek Notes for Chapter 2:  
> Contrary to popular belief and frequent portrayal, British maids didn’t wear uniforms until closer to Victorian times. 
> 
> Many of the future chapters will have notes: Geek Notes, Enhancement Notes, Cameo Notes. I’ll call them out so you’ll have a better idea if you want to read them. 
> 
> Geek Notes: Links for readers like me who love knowing more about miscellaneous subjects that are woven into the story. 
> 
> Enhancement Notes: A few plot lines appear later that, in my opinion, will be more enjoyable if you access tangible things like music or art that I can’t include since this isn’t a film. It will never be essential, though. 
> 
> Cameo Notes: A particular kind of Geek Notes. I’m having fun writing a few historical figures into the story, e.g. the pirate mentioned here, a friend of Lord Babington’s. I’ll provide links and a bit of commentary if you’re interested. Only for those who find it gratifying or want to justify ready FanFic by pointing to its educational aspect ;-).


	3. Convection...Heat Rises

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Finally done! I don't anticipate most future chapters taking this long. One issue was that a certain character's scene had made it onto my "regrets" list, but I'm back on board with him for the fun of it. 
> 
> As a prize for your patience, there are 50% more words than either of the last two chapters. Many things happen on Day 3 of the New Maid. I hope you enjoy them all. 
> 
> If you like metaphors, you will see through the chapter title and other fire metaphors along the way ;-). For those of you looking forward to Notes, more are on the way in the next chapter.
> 
> Your comments make my day and I welcome any feedback...really!

Wednesday  
2 December 1818

Vaguely conscious, Sidney winced, gripped his neck, and felt that his arm was asleep, too. It was then that he recalled he had fallen asleep on the sofa.

_I must cease letting Crowe choose our evening entertainment._

He was not quite hungover, but his head hurt, and he was cold. He opened one eye towards the French doors facing the garden. The earliest light was tinting the rear of the sitting room with a rose gold hue, but he wasn’t ready to open both eyes, so he settled back and considered whether he should move to his own bed. The last two nights had been too short.

He almost drifted back to sleep but a whiff of coal roused him. _Maybe there’s a draught stirring the cinders._ But the odor grew stronger, and then smelled much more distinctly of smoke. Sidney sat up with a start to see several plumes of smoke floating away from the fireplace.

And there she was. For the second morning in a row, Miss Heywood appeared. This time she was leaning over the fireplace, poker in hand, trying to suppress a cough.

“What are you DOING?” he huffed, as he pushed himself off the sofa.

“OH. Mr. Parker.” she said, startled and dismayed by his sudden appearance on the other side of the room. “I…. I thought I had it sorted,” gesturing to the fireplace with more coughing.

Sidney put his hands on his hips, pursed his lips, and looked toward the garden, then he took the last swig of brandy for his headache.

He looked back at her. “Why are you using the poker?”

Irritation surfaced in his voice. Was it that the maid didn’t know how to knock OR start a fire, the fading likelihood of a few more hours of sleep in his actual bed, or that her presence was so…unsettling?

He gestured toward her hand, shaking his head, “The poker, it throws the small coals into the cinders and disturbs the transfer of heat between them. It will extinguish the fire you’re trying to light.” He paused. “You…don’t know how to build a fire?” he peered at her.

Charlotte grimaced. “Well, apparently not one using coal. I am.... I am very sorry. Where I’m from, we still use wood,” stammered Charlotte. Her eyes looked like a storm of tears were threatening. “I’ll go and fetch someone who knows what they’re doing.” Her head bowed and she began to walk toward the doorway.

Sidney wrestled with himself for a moment. He was aware that he had added to her distress, which troubled him, and he also didn’t relish sending her to Mrs. Van White to admit her failure.

“No,” he called after her. “Wait.” His look softened.

“Yes?” Her voice said, small and tight with uncertainty.

Sidney swallowed, rubbed his forehead, and turned to smirk in the other direction, knowing that he was about to give her a lesson in city fireplaces. More unsettling territory with the maid.

He looked at her through his brow and nodded toward the fireplace.  
“Come,” his voice deep with the morning, almost terse with certitude.

She was all at sea--for Sidney Parker, the sophisticated, darkly handsome man of the city, was offering assistance with her job as a maid.

He certainly had a roguish, city air about him this morning. He cut a sharp look, even after a night on the sofa, in his black leather pants and matching waistcoat, which was unbuttoned, and his shirt that was open at the top, his cravat missing. Charlotte blushed, looking away before he caught her looking at his neck. His scruff was deeper, curls askew, and there was a slight puffiness around his deep brown eyes. It appeared that he’d had the kind of night that might lead to waking the next morning in the sitting room.

He crouched in front of the hearth and leaned forward on one knee. “Here,” he said as she kneeled next to him. He set to work, sweeping the fallen coals from the small space underneath.

He cleared his throat and quietly inquired. “Mrs. Van White did not give you instructions?” His eyes searched her face as he waited for her answer.

She took a breath and shook her head, “One of the other maids was supposed to but, well, she was busy, and I…I don’t think she’s too fond of me.”

“I see.”

Sidney looked back toward the fireplace and Charlotte took the moment to glance at him again in the morning light. The house was very still and the time so early that it felt rather intimate to watch the sleepiness slip from his rough face.

“Adding too many coals is the biggest mistake,” he said as he removed almost half of the coals that she had laid in the basket grate. “Coal needs an abundance of oxygen to catch fire properly. A large pile of coal, starting cold, will smother itself, and create more smoke in the process. Using the poker has a similar effect. It shifts the smaller pieces through the grate and into the cinders, blocking the air flow from below.”

Sidney’s low, velvety voice so close to her was distracting. She needed to be careful to follow along or all the care he was taking to explain would be wasted.

“The smoke tends to rise naturally, but if the air is too cold at the base of the chimney, it will seek an easier escape, out into room. If you make sure the coals catch fire with some intensity, a warm column of air will form and the smoke will follow it into the chimney. A warm flue is a friendly flue.”

His unhurried, detailed explanation took her by surprise. She would not have predicted he could be so patient and accommodating.

He continued, glancing at her, “Another way to improve ventilation is to hold a lit candle at the base of the chimney to warm the space before you light the fire.” He was still looking at her, his eyes softer than before.

Sidney looked away for a moment and then said decisively, “The coals are ready. Do you have a tinderbox?”

She nodded. A little hum went through her as she handed it to him, and grew as his arm brushed hers. But then Sidney realized she must know how to use the tinderbox and he felt a pang of regret for taking over the entire endeavor.

“Actually, go ahead," he said, returning the tinderbox to her. "I’m sure this part can’t be so different from fireplaces the countryside,” an attempted lightness in his voice.

She was nervous being put on the spot but managed on the second try to strike the steel against the flint and spark the tinder cloth. She placed the sulfur-tipped match into the flame, which quickly ignited. After closing the box, she leaned over and touched the match to the coals.

As they watched the fire take hold, she ventured quietly, “You must regret asking me to come back. I didn’t even know how to manage the fireplaces.”

Sidney smiled a little smile into the coals. “No. No regrets. And I’m sure it will get better,” he reassured her, pursing his lips and avoiding her eyes.

He felt her relief at his words. She drew a longer breath; her chest rose and fell, a small sigh escaping her. When he realized how his words had affected her, his body hummed more intensely with her closeness.

They watched the dark lumps of coal begin to glow and warmth began to fill the space around them. “I think we can safely say that the fire won’t expire any time soon.”

 _Indeed_ , thought Charlotte, aware her cheeks had been feeling flushed since before she had even lit the match.

“Thank you, Mr. Parker. It’s perfect. I understand now.”

“Very good.” he said, speaking gently through his nearly closed jaw. Neither appreciated it, but it was a Sidney “tell,” for he spoke this way when he was feeling tender and was holding back.

With a little swallow, Charlotte considered that she and Mr. Parker had been at the hearth for some time. Mrs. Van White had said that the burden of a proper relationship between the Parkers and the servants, as in any household, was with the servants. She knew it was a matter of appearances, and that Mr. Parker’s offer to help her had been altruistic. Still, she thought it was time to go.

“If you’ll excuse me, Mr. Parker, I need to tend to the other fireplaces now.” She stood and gathered her basket of supplies.

He nodded his tight smile in agreement, and she turned, her eyes dropping quickly, before leaving.

She stopped at the door and smiled shyly at him. “Thank you again, Mr. Parker.”

As she left, Sidney was aware of how heightened his senses had become in her presence. Social norms and his reluctant disposition would hardly allow him to recognize what he felt as the attraction it was, but he couldn’t deny that calling her Miss Heywood in his mind had done nothing to lessen the effect she had on him. _Well, surely this won’t continue,_ he thought. _I am hardly going to be helping her start a fire every morning._

 _Perhaps that’s not the best choice of words,_ he thought. And his smirk was back.

___________

Charlotte made her way around to all the fireplaces on the main floor, each fire starting nearly as successfully as the one Mr. Parker had built with her. However, a small flush of embarrassment still clung to her. She felt so caught-out and inept when he had first questioned her. Part of her wanted to fight back and protest the voices in her own head as much as to him, that she wasn’t stupid; she had practically run an entire farm estate with her brother and sister and mother. _What must he think of me?_

But then, he had shown what could only be described as a kindness to her. He had been attentive even, much beyond anything she expected from anyone in the Parker family to do for her, maybe least of all him. His voice that had been stern and almost accusatory, with dark eyes so intense, had turned soft and patient.

She thought back to how yesterday his look, at times intimidating and detached, had lifted when she paraphrased Heraclitus. And that he had sought her out on behalf of Mrs. Parker was rather charming. Thinking of him like this triggered a sensation similar to the one that washed over her several times in front of the fireplace and when they returned to Bedford Place yesterday, as well.

Before she knew it, her musings took her further to their first encounter. The sight of him, every inch of him, had been overwhelming in the whole. But when she recalled his eyes, it was the first specific thing she had noticed about him--how unguarded, how youthful his expression had been—she recognized it as the look she’d seen again this morning, toward the end of their time at the hearth.

She was starting to blush for all the additional parts of Sidney Parker taking over her mind, so she tried to refocus on her work. But then she caught a glimpse of a nearly naked cherub in a painting in the hallway and she had to stifle a giggle as it took her back to yesterday morning. When he had turned slightly in the bath, it had afforded her a partial view of his backside and, for as handsome and manly as he was, there was an innocence about the curve of his cheek that gave her the giggles. Compared with his leading view, his bottom was a certainly the safer thought, but one she would still need to put off if she had a hope of retaining an air of detached servitude while working in the rooms of Bedford Place.

 _Silent and invisible,_ Charlotte chastened herself. _Silent and invisible._

__________

After nearly two hours of work, it was almost time for servants’ breakfast. Charlotte was very much looking forward to it. The servants’ room where they ate was brightly lit by high windows nestled in just below the ground floor of the house. The light made it both pleasing and functional for tasks like mending and ironing, and it always smelled of the delicious cooking coming from Mrs. Waters’ stoves.

The servants’ fare was simpler than Parker family meals, but it had all been delicious, especially the baked goods and a rich, chunky stew filled with root vegetables and herbs they’d had last evening for dinner. Mealtime made her a little sad for it reminded her of the family meals that she knew in her earlier life. Her mother had been an excellent cook, preferring to hire out more of the housework, rather than employ a cook for their daily meals. Fresh produce and meat were usually available in abundance from the farm and she worked it into the tastiest savory pies, roasts, and vegetable gratins that Charlotte had ever eaten.

As they sat down, Mr. Jenkins pulled Charlotte out of her thoughts. Unbeknownst to her, he was aware that she had fled the house and returned shortly thereafter yesterday, so he made an effort engage her in a friendly inquiry or two about the comfort of her room and her second day. For a butler to a maid, it was quite a warm and welcomed gesture. Lydia was still pretty crusty toward Charlotte, but Harriet ventured a tepid smile at one point, after she checked to make sure Lydia would not notice. Charlotte wanted to respect Harriet’s gesture, so she smiled back but likewise took care not to catch the eye of Lydia. Mrs. Parker’s ladies’ maid, Claudine, was polite but mostly kept to herself. She seemed a bit unsure of her English as a young French woman and she appeared shy, as well.

Edward filed in after Thomas, part saunter and part indifference. It seemed unbecoming for a servant, but he seemed to know not to push it too far. When his hand vaulted for a scone as he strode past the pastry basket, Mrs. Van White stopped him with a raised eyebrow. Mrs. Van White and Mr. Jenkins ruled the roost downstairs, and he knew it would not be advantageous to make trouble. Charlotte knew to be on her guard, though, for when he walked behind her chair, his hand brushed along her shoulder and she doubted very much it was an accident. Unfortunately, it appeared Lydia has noticed his contact with her, and she eyed Charlotte with a terse glance.

After breakfast, Mrs. Van White briefed the maids and footmen on the day ahead. “Edward and Thomas, you will need to be on hand when Miss Lambe, Mr. Arthur Parker, and Miss Diana Parker arrive this afternoon. After you fetch their luggage to their rooms, they may wish to have refreshments brought up or served in the sitting room after their long journey. Charlotte, I will help Miss Parker unpack her things and you will attend to Miss Lambe. Neither of them travels with a ladies’ maid, but they will require assistance unpacking and organizing their clothes and will need to be provided with a washbowl and clean towels in the evening.”

“I believe that is all for now, in addition to the usual afternoon work,” Mrs. Van White concluded. “Charlotte, I’d like to see you for a few moments before you go.”

Charlotte was nervous that Mrs. Van White was going to admonish her for something. Once everyone else had left, she began, “The beds you made yesterday were very well done. Make sure you tuck the blankets very firmly under the sides of the mattress as it is the secret to a well-made bed. I trust you did not have trouble with the fireplaces this morning?”

“The first one was a bit difficult, but the rest went well.” Charlotte admitted.

Mrs. Van White continued, “Charlotte, I hope I can trust you to be discreet with what I am about to tell you. We’ve spoken about the responsibility of propriety between servants and masters; likewise, discretion as to the habits and peculiarities of the residents is required at all times, especially to work at the front of the house.

“With that in mind, I will familiarize you with some of the habits of the family members and guest arriving today so you can better cater to their wants and needs.” Mrs. Van White paused a moment to register Charlotte’s full agreement.

“Miss Lambe is Mr. Sidney Parker’s ward and she is about four year younger than you. Mr. Parker was working in Antigua with her father when he died almost three years ago.

“Miss Lambe tends to be more exacting than the rest of the Parkers, though certainly not outside the boundaries of what servants must be prepared to accommodate. Do not worry about that. I tell you this only because you are new to working as a servant. You must have a stiff upper lip, as they say, and be ready to serve at all times. Also, Miss Lambe tends to stay in her room during the day and often breaks her fast there, ordering a tray for her room, so you will need to be ready to fulfill her requests and mindful of when the room is available for cleaning.”

“Thank you. I understand, ma’am.”

“Miss Diana and Mr. Arthur have delicate constitutions and sometimes require extra assistance. The footmen will be responsible for most of Mr. Arthur’s requests, as he is a single man. You have probably figured out that Mr. Jenkins generally attends to Mr. Tom, and also Mr. Sidney, when he requires something. Mr. Tom is more partial to the services of a valet, and sometimes even brings his own from Sanditon, though not this time. You may, however, bring Mr. Arthur his tonics at the same time as Miss Diana in the early evening. He is a kind and jovial man, and both of them are appreciative if occasionally distracted. If you take their requests in stride and resist letting their flustered temperaments rub off on you, you will likely get on quite well with them. I’ll show you where we keep their tonics and such.”

Charlotte followed Mrs. Van White down the back hallway to a charming room decorated with Mediterranean tiles. Rows and rows of wooden shelves lined the walls and apothecary glass jars stood along them, liquids in some and dry ingredients in others. Along the longest wall was a gorgeous marble countertop and in the corner sat a metal cabinet with glass doors with small boxes and more containers inside. Light filled the room from a single, round geometric stained-glass window high on the narrow wall adjacent to the side garden. The walls danced with a kaleidoscope of blue, purple, green and yellow shapes from the light filtering through the colored panels of the stained glass. Charlotte was in awe of the delightful room.

“Not all households of this size or this generation have a ‘still room,’ but the elder Mrs. Parker, the siblings’ mother before she passed, was quite interested in herbal medicines and used this room for her hobby. Mrs. Waters still uses the room to preserves herbs and flowers from the kitchen garden for flavoring food. Mostly, we order medicines from the local pharmacy, but Mrs. Waters also makes our own rose and lavender waters to be used on the household linens and for medicinal uses like improving sleep and so forth.”

Charlotte’s gaze ran across the rows of bottles and small boxes. Most were empty, but many still had hand-written labels telling what they originally stored: anise-seed, rose petals, dried elderberry, lavender, lemon oil, almond oil, and so on.

“It’s amazing to have a whole room committed to this purpose,” Charlotte marveled, unable to restrain her enthusiasm.

“Are you familiar with the art of home medicines and such?” asked Mrs. Van White.

“Somewhat. My mother made tinctures, infusions, soap, and our own furniture polish. I remember quite a bit of it.”

“Interesting. It sounds as though your mother was an industrious woman,” Mrs. Van White said kindly. “Well, here is the shelf with the oils and tinctures that Mr. Arthur and Miss Diana prefer. The dosages, if needed, are on labels.”

“Oh. And, Charlotte, you might like to take a small container of this salve with you. I noticed your hands are somewhat chapped. It’s not easy to keep your hands calm in the winter with the housework we do. It is made with calendula, oats, and almond oil.”

“Oh, thank you so very much, Mrs. Van White. You are too kind.” Charlotte said gratefully, and she tried very hard not to think of what Mrs. Parker had said about her position likely being temporary.

___________

There was one recurring event in Sidney’s life that was a source of considerable antipathy: Tom’s never-ending stream of financial requests for Sanditon. At times his ideas were inspired. More often, they exceeded any sensibility that a decent businessman would entertain. If it would make the town more grand or complete or significant, he generally considered it a good idea without any thought to the cost, feasibility, liabilities or priority. At least until Sidney told him otherwise, and even then, only with reluctance or ill-temper.

Sidney had barely begun to break his fast when Tom quickly took a plate from the buffet and began to pepper him with his latest idea. They had hardly seen each other since Sidney arrived the morning before, but pleasantries were cast aside, as usual. He didn’t ask Sidney about his own business, even though he had traveled to London specifically to check on his ship that had been waylaid by piracy. The circumstances were so noteworthy, in fact, that several of the newspapers had carried the story on their frontpages that morning. Sidney was even pictured and quoted in two of the most prominent London papers, _The Morning Post_ and _The Morning Herald_.

It was ironic, for what Tom began to describe was his plan to start a newspaper in Sanditon. The genesis of his idea was a printing press he learned was available for what he’d been told was a good price. To Sidney’s dismay, Tom spent the better part of the meal attempting to persuade him to finance the venture. But after talking and a bit of yelling from Sidney, Tom conceded that the cost of salaries for a skeletal staff, and outlays for paper and ink, and the challenge of getting subscribers at seasonal resort town, made it a foolhardy venture, at least at this point. _Thank goodness Tom didn’t himself have the money for the down payment or I would likely be spending my day convincing the seller to refund the payment or buying out the press and trying to offload it without a loss._

___________

By late morning, Sidney was more than ready to get out of Bedford Place and meet up with Babington and Crowe at Brooks’, their club on St. James in the West End, before heading to his office. Fortunately, the rest of his day didn’t look too bad. With a small concession on price, he’d been able to convince two out of three of his exporters to delay their shipments until next month, by which time the ship could be repaired. He only had to locate one or two more loads of freight to make up for the loss. He would also receive a small payment from his maritime insurance contract, which would cover the costs of repairs, lost wages and income while the ship was in port. The captain and crew members who had been injured were on the mend, which added to his peace of mind.

As he left his room, he caught a glimpse of Charlotte’s dress floating around the corner at the end of the hallway. She was likely working to ready his siblings’ and Georgiana’s rooms for their arrival.

He couldn’t help but think of their early morning encounter. Her presence intensified all his senses and set him off-kilter in a way that no woman had in a very long time. While he resisted the idea, he had to admit that it felt different than it ever had before, and he wondered whether it was because she was forbidden fruit, so to speak. He had never been genuinely attracted to a person outside his social class before. And the fact that she lived in his home made it thornier, still.

By the time Sidney gathered his papers in the study, the questions in his mind about Charlotte had begun to untie some of his other feelings, as well, feelings that he normally kept tethered to his aloof temperament and routine habits of living. As his inner world shifted a bit, he thought about how he’d come to his present place in life. He decided it was a good day for a walk to the Club.

Sidney knew he had been going through the motions for a long time, only engaging out of duty, as with Tom and Georgiana, or for carousing and camaraderie with Babington and Crowe. They were true friends but most of their pursuits were superficial and he seldom left his shell for long. The one exception was when he was with his nieces and nephews. He loved their innocence and enthusiasm, earnestness and candor, and the laughter he was able to elicit from them almost constantly when he committed himself to it. He felt so much lighter in their company and smiled now as he thought of each of them.

It had been eight years since Eliza had broken off their engagement. As much as it had shattered him, he wondered if he had truly been in love. She was very beautiful, with her sparkling blue eyes, fine features, and delicate feminine frame, and he had felt she complemented him in every way. After they were engaged, she welcomed his increasingly amorous affections during their courtship outings. He thought it was a further sign of her love for him. While they hadn’t been unchaste, they had crossed the lines of propriety, and he thought that a girl like Eliza would only have been so open in her affections if she felt as he did. But now he could see that it would not necessarily be so.

The cut of her dismissal had been particularly deep because she did it to marry another, much wealthier man, Mr. Harold Campion. He had almost destroyed himself with drink and gambling until, at Tom’s suggestion, he headed to Antigua for a therapeutic adventure. Now, years on, he could only think about what it said about her, rather than it being a reflection of something he was lacking. At the time, his pride was injured as much as his heart, but it seemed foolish now. Instead of the pains of lost love he expected to find, his heart was cut instead by memories of a tainted love that left a taste of regret more than heartache.

Sidney recalled the time Eliza verbally cut down a few younger ladies on the fringes of her social circle. He had given her the benefit of the doubt, but now he could see that it was because he had placed all his hopes in their future together. As such, he could not afford for her to be unworthy of his affections. It was beginning to seem that what he had felt was perhaps more infatuation than love. In their early days of courting, she also stood him up for an outing with several members of the beau monde without telling him. He discovered it through a mutual friend, but she hardly registered his hurt feelings afterward. A few weeks later, Eliza arrived at the last minute for a dinner with his family in her honor. When asked, she was nonchalant and dismissive.

It was one of many instances when he had looked the other way when she treated his siblings with disregard. Perhaps it was because he was just becoming aware of his siblings’ eccentricities with the eyes of an adult, his own internal tension making it easier to excuse her disdain. He never expected her to be particularly close with them, but she was hardly even civil, and her interest always appeared feigned.

Sidney was feeling a bit overwhelmed by his thoughts. The only conclusion that he could draw was that he had the woman he had pined for, compromised his life for, was much less than he had perceived her to be.

 _If it’s true, why couldn’t I see it before?_ He thought that maybe he had held onto the belief that it was true love because it was the only way he could justify the level of grief she had caused him. _How could I admit that cost me so dearly but, perhaps, wasn’t even genuine?_ A sobering thought.

He was stunned by how quickly the memories had informed his thinking, once his wall of self-protection and reserve was broken. He had one more thought so obvious that he could not believe he had never had it before, and it stopped him in his tracks on the sidewalk, provoking a curse and muttering among several gentlemen behind him.

_What if I wasn’t just mourning Eliza? What if it hurt so much because of my grief over mum and dad?_

It seemed obvious now that the three months between his parents’ death in the shipwreck and when he began courting Eliza was not much time. Sidney had been especially close to his mother, but he could not recall ever letting that grief touch him in a meaningful way.

Slowly, he began walking again. Some of his favorite memories of his parents came back to him, and he was struck by how much he missed them. He wondered how his world might have been different, even his relationship with Eliza, if only they’d been around. _Would I have courted her? Would they have counseled me against it? Are these merely regrets getting the best of me? Were we actually a good match and I’m still just bitter?_

_________

As Sidney approached the Club, he spotted Babington and Crowe on their way in. They caught his look and waited for him.

With a big grin, Crowe slapped him on the back as they entered the doorway to the club.

“It’s the man of the hour!” With that Crowe grabbed a newspaper from the table at the entrance and pointed to Sidney’s mug in the lower right corner of the front page. “'The British trading ship, the _Odysseus_ , owned by Mr. Sidney Parker, narrowly escaped the worst punishment of the infamous nobleman-turned-outlaw, pirate Roberto Confresí, on its return journey from the West Indies last month.’ Parker! You’re frontpage news!”

Sidney shrugged it off with a shallow smirk and walked ahead toward their usual table. As Crowe ordered drinks and checked out which waitresses were working the midday shift, Babington picked up on Sidney’s mood, which seemed differently aligned than to the matter in the papers.

“What’s up, Parker? You’re not acting like you have the world by the tail. I can’t tell if you’ve had an epiphany or seen a ghost.”

Sidney smiled a rueful smile and pulled out a smoke. He pondered Babington’s question, grateful for his insightful friend but unsure how much he wanted to disclose.

“Oh, I don’t know. I suppose I am starting to understand what a needless wreck my life has become.”

Babs squinted at him, curious if Sidney would reveal more. “General middle-aged regrets Parker or something else?” He couldn’t resist a little teasing.

Sidney spooned out a bit more. “I’m not so sure I have any reason to be as jaded as I’ve become. I have been reluctant to revisit my past, to examine where I am, perhaps to my detriment. I have been traveling the same road for a very long time and, honestly, I’m not sure why.

“After Eliza, I set off down a certain path, and I’ve never really questioned it or sought a new one. Maybe I wanted to protect the memory of what I thought I had with her or to avoid admitting that I was a fool.”

Sidney wasn’t sure he wanted to talk about his parents’ deaths, yet. He wasn’t even certain it was part of the reason he’d closed himself off.

“Are you saying there might be a different path for you Parker? Are you talking about women, courting...marriage? Or something else?” Babington asked, not sure what Sidney’s reflections implied.

“I am not sure. I am just tired of how I have been. I know it isn’t who I once was. If it means...settling down...I certainly don’t have anyone in mind.” Of course, Sidney neglected to mention the young woman who had so frequently and successfully taken over his thoughts since the previous morning.

“Seeing you ready to settle down with Esther has probably stirred some of my thoughts.” Sidney chuckled. “I’ll admit she scared me at first. She is fierce! But now I am convinced that she is your match, Babers.” Sidney took another drag on his cigarette. “Still, I don’t know that a match will ever be in the cards for me. I just know my head needs to be in a different place.”

Crowe was looking increasing troubled. “Come on, Parker. Are you telling me you’re considering losing your brooding reputation, your propensity to drink heavily and occasionally beat the daylights out of someone in the ring? That’s not the Sidney Parker I know and love.” Crowe emphasized his last word with some fluttering goo-goo eyes.

Sidney shook his head, slapped Crowe on the back, and gave him a wry smile. “Crowe, I’m pretty sure you don’t have to worry about the bachelor status of _both_ of your friends being compromised any time soon.”

“Are you certain? You’ve already abandoned me at the boarding house.”

“I told you why, Crowe. You might consider taking yourself a more legitimate lover. It’s not like you couldn’t find one.” Sidney did not think Crowe would be limiting his avenues with the fairer sex any time soon, but he wasn’t going to back down on his convictions.

“Parker, whether you know it or not, you are obviously already a man with a conscience. I’m not sure I can stand much more “improvement” in you,” Crowe lamented.

The conversation took a turned to the details of the pirate business and, finally, to Lord Babington’s upcoming wedding to Esther Denham.

“Babs, you have your work cut out for you, but I’ve no doubt there will be some fringe benefits taking on someone as feisty as Miss Denham,” said Crowe with a wink, returning to a theme that never seemed to tire him.

“Crowe, I’m quite sure I don’t need you picturing my intimate time with my wife-to-be. Sod off.”

“Fine. But know that if you show up to our gatherings with a silly smile on your face before you’ve had even a dram of whisky, you’re buying.”

“If.... IF I show up to socialize with you after the wedding, and it may be weeks or months before I leave the side of my bride, I will be more than happy to pay for your damn whiskey. The way I see it, I’ll still be ahead in spades,” quipped Babs.

With that, the men parted company and Sidney turned back to his questioning mind, taking the time to walk for a while. His conversation with his friends had pressed his thoughts toward his history with women and he felt sure there were things he hadn't seen before.

After Eliza, Sidney had eventually found himself in the company of a woman on Antigua. Marjorie Smith was an attractive, middle-aged widower who had shown up a few times at his office on “neighborly concerns” and, in so many words, had made it clear she desired nothing from him other than his physical attentions. He broke it off after several weeks when he realized that, although he wasn’t falling in love, his heart was too vulnerable to make their purely physical relationship feel safe. After that, he put all his focus into the business, sea bathing in the Caribbean Sea or one of the local bays once or twice a day and drinking too much at least several nights a week.

When he returned from Antigua over a year ago, he joined Babs and Crowe in their bachelors-of-leisure pursuits--drink, cards, and women at the boarding house--as was exceedingly common in their social class. But a few months in, he overheard a conversation between Mrs. Harries and one of the younger ladies. It was obvious that the young woman wished quite desperately to leave the boarding house, but Madame persuaded her, with some shaming and manipulation, that it was best for her to stay.

It was too much for Sidney. In Antigua, he had seen what it was for people to be trapped in their circumstances, albeit generally graver ones, for slavery was the backbone of most of the sugar trade. Once he understood the depravity, abuse, and coercion involved, he had taken care to divest himself of investments that were sullied by the practice. That was when Sidney had gone to work with Mr. Lambe who shared most of his convictions.

And so, it felt wrong to continue to frequent to the boarding house. Even if he spent the evening with a woman who seemed to have the freedom to choose, he knew that Mrs. Harries, and certainly Beecroft, the owner, did not have scruples. His business would be profiting them, often at the expense of vulnerable women, some who were not even of age.

Sidney considered why he hadn’t just immersed himself in society and found some kind of companionship that way. There were plenty of wealthy women who were not seeking marriage and would have been happy to take him as a lover, but it reminded him of how he’d felt with Marjorie. It didn’t quite work for him.

His surfacing as an eligible bachelor in London after Antigua had caused a bit of a stir in the beau monde, but none of the women he met at balls and dinners had piqued his interest for proper courtship. Despite what people were inclined to think of him, his gruff exterior was something of a tribute to his sincere nature. He detested artificiality and had little patience for the frivolity of mindless flirtation. While some men treated it like a game, the practice was too close to the deceitful, or at least fickle, attentions he had received from Eliza.

Thinking through the past, Sidney couldn't help but think that if he was ever going to marry, there would have to be some kind of affection and attraction. He knew his parents had cared genuinely for each other, but he didn’t know if he was still capable of having that kind of feeling for a woman, or if there was a woman who would want him for something other than his money or to parade him around.

____________

Not everything was settled in Sidney’s mind after his contemplations that morning, but when he returned to Bedford Place in the afternoon to greet Georgiana and his siblings on their arrival at Bedford Place, his mind was mulling over how to make things better with them. All of them had experienced loss, but Georgiana the most recently and he had to admit he had not done enough as her guardian to help her through it. She was young and he knew it had been very difficult for her.

Arthur and Diana emerged from the carriage bubbling about their next appointment with some Dr. Fuchs in London. Georgiana emerged next, ever reticent and weary, as she had been since she’d arrived in England with Sidney over a year ago.

Sidney tried a smile with her and offered his arm. She gave him a skeptical look, but took his arm, nonetheless.

Then something shocked and startled Sidney and he pulled them up short, almost sending Georgiana toppling over the step. She shot him a look and an admonishment, “What are you…?”

The shocked look on his face that told her why he had stopped, although she was unsure of what it meant. Sidney was staring incredulously at the face of one of the footmen who was unloading the luggage. _It can’t be!_ he thought to himself.

Edward looked at him, smiled his almost sneer, and continued unloading the luggage. Once inside, Sidney made his apologies to Georgiana and went straight to Tom’s study. He wasn't sure he had ever been more upset with him.

 _“Would you mind telling me why the obsequious prat that is the disinherited nephew of Lady Denham is serving as one of our footmen??”_ Sidney’s anger made him more eloquent than usual.

“Sidney. Take it easy. Edward is here at Lady Denham’s request.”

“What are you talking about??”

“Well, you know that last year he was disinherited by Lady Denham. Well, initially he didn’t do so well. You know, some opium and the like, but then after he was clean for about six months, he went to Lady Denham and asked her for help getting a job, based on earning her trust. He spent about three months working the ass farm. When I went to see her last month to discuss the debt, she asked if I would hire him. She thought it might give him a chance to pursue a better life and…

“…get him out of her hair,” Sidney finished for him.

“Well…. I suppose.”

“Tom, Edward is known as a womanizing, scheming devil who pursued an improper relationship with my best friend’s fiancée!”

“Oh. You mean Esther, his step-sister. That’s right. She’s the future Lady Babington.”

“Yes, Tom!”

“I forgot.”

“You forgot??! He now represents our household when we are out and about in town and has direct access to our family, our entire household. Not to mention, how am I supposed to invited by best friend and his soon-to-be-wife to my home? Why, WHY would you agree to such a thing?”

“Lady Denham threatened to pull her support for Sanditon if we didn’t hire him.”

“So, we are now hiring staff for our home... Strike that. YOU are now hiring unsuitable, completely inappropriate staff to live in our home, based on being unable to fulfill obligations to Lady Denham?? How do you intend to fix this, Tom?”

“I....I don’t know.”

“Well, I can tell you this. If he so much as steps foot in the study, makes an advance toward one of the maids, or one piece of silver or bottle of wine goes missing, he’s OUT! And I want him gone, regardless, by the time we return to Sanditon. He cannot live here, especially when we are not present.”

“Of course, Sidney. Of course. I did have the good sense to tell Lady Denham that his employment was conditional on good performance.”

“Well. In that case...” muttered Sidney with a large eye roll as he strode out of the study to go for walk.

__________

Just before servants’ supper, Charlotte was finishing wiping down the evening trays that would be carried to the bedrooms when she heard Mrs. Van White yelling at the back door. She peaked around the corner to see what was going on.

On the landing, in front of Mrs. Van White, were dozens of stunning red and white flowers standing in wooden crates filled with dirt.

Charlotte hazarded a questioning look, thinking maybe Mrs. Van White needed an outlet for her frustration.

“What am I going to do all these paperwhites and amaryllis?? I can’t simply throw them away.” Noticing Charlotte’s curious stare, she continued. “One of London’s premier florists mistakenly delivered them an hour ago and has replied that we can keep them. Is it a gift or a curse? What am I supposed to do with them?”

Mrs. Van White’s panic caught Charlotte completely off-guard. She never would have suspected something like this would affect the housekeeper in this way. “What do _you_ think?” Mrs. Van White’s panic appeared to have prompted her to ask what Charlotte suspected was a rhetorical question.

But Charlotte was bold.

“Well, I will say that my father used to force bulbs like these. In fact, he had even built a small greenhouse for his flowers in the winter and was in the process of growing it into a business before...” Charlotte shook her head at the memory. “Well, anyway, would you like to try to display them?”

Mrs. Van White was curious what Charlotte had in mind. In truth, not even Charlotte knew for sure. Sensing there might be an answer, though, Mrs. Van White replied, “If you have an eye for what we could do with them, why don’t you give it a go with few of them in the morning, as you have time, and we’ll see if they might work someplace in the house, even if it’s on the bedroom mantles." She sighed. "The paperwhites smell divine, and the amaryllis will be like having a member of the royal family visit the house.”

Charlotte was starting to regret speaking up, but there really wasn’t a downside, if she didn’t mind a bit more work on her plate. Nothing ventured, nothing gained.

“Yes, ma’am. I’ll see what I can do. I’ll move them outside for the night so they stay fresh and see what I can do in the morning after my tasks are complete.”

“Excellent. Sounds like a good plan.”

__________

For Charlotte, the rest of the evening went by in a blur. Busy, but nothing went sideways, thankfully.

Unpacking Miss Lambe’s trunk proved easier that she anticipated. Miss Lambe was more polite than Charlotte was expecting, just quiet, and she wondered if Mrs. Van White’s words had been more of a caution about what might happen than a warning of what was a regular occurrence.

Mr. Arthur and Miss Diana requested their tonics before dinner and tinctures before bed, both speaking about how it was helpful on a traveling day. Running the extra bathing bowls and water upstairs during the Parkers’ dinner was a feat. Fortunately, Thomas had helped her deliver them and she caught her breath again before too long. At one point, she startled when she heard Mr. Sidney’s voice down the hall. He seemed to have that effect on her. Apparently, his voice was no less stirring than it had been that morning, but she could not bring herself to regret it.

It was quite late when she finished all her work. Before she went upstairs, she took a peek out the back door to take in the beauty of the flowers one more time. They were truly specimens of their kind and would look gorgeous in the house if she could figure out a way to arrange them. As she made her way upstairs, she listed off what she would need to try to display them properly. First, vessels in which to plant them—pots, household items, and vases, perhaps. Also, she wanted to ask Mrs. Van White if there was ribbon available and whether there were any extra plants or moss in the garden that she could use to fill out the containers. She just hoped she could find enough time to attempt something special.

And so, Charlotte went to sleep day-dreaming about the stunning crimson and white flowers awaiting her in the back garden. She was hopeful that, with a little luck and time to create tomorrow, when she finished they would be pleasing enough to go over the fireplace in the sitting room.


	4. Amaryllis and Paperwhites

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Trust me, more kindling in this chapter 😉.  
> 
> 
> Notes: If I haven't mentioned it before, maids did not generally wear uniforms in England until the late 19th century, from what I understand.
> 
> About the flowers:  
> Amaryllis, large tropical-looking scarlet-colored flowers: https://www.whiteflowerfarm.com/mas_assets/cache/image/6/8/d/1/26833.Jpg
> 
> Paperwhites, part of the Narcissus/Daffodil family which smell sweet, musky and divine. Modern hybrids are often have an overpowering scent, so not those. https://www.whiteflowerfarm.com/mas_assets/cache/image/3/f/f/1/16369.Jpg

**Thursday**   
**3 December 1818**

Charlotte straightened her shoulders and fingered her dress. It was her favorite and she was so pleased she had found time to mend it yesterday afternoon. The fit was more flattering than her other dress. The fine white fabric was covered in a pattern of tiny green dots and roses with a green ribbon along the high waist that suited her coloring very well. The square neckline featured the angled lace inlays of a chemisette and the bust area had flattering pin-tucks and subtle gathering.

Once she was dressed, she had time remaining before she wanted to be downstairs, so she attempted to style her hair in a chignon, taking advantage of her natural curls which were the popular style, usually pulled free around the face. She had noticed that Mrs. Van White wore her hair up and thought it looked professional and fitting for working in a fine London home.

As she inserted the hairpins, she smiled, recalling how her father had lovingly teased her and Alison when they came to dinner looking “proper and elegant,” their hair piled high on their heads after attempting the latest styles. As they approached the dinner table, he would announce them as if they were ladies of the ton at a grand ball. “Announcing Lady Charlotte Heywood and Lady Alison Heywood of Willingden Manor.” Then, after dinner he would play the fiddle and they would dance. Their older brother, Matthew, could sometimes be persuaded by their mother to teach them a dance or two, as he had started attending the town socials, being a few years older.

Wistfully, she thought of how her father had looked at them. She could see a look of pride in his eyes. Their play was a foreshadowing of growing up and she was hopeful that he would be proud of her now.

__________

The last pin in place, Charlotte decided she was satisfied with the result and took the candle in hand and tread lightly down the hallway towards the stairs, wishing she had all the creaky boards memorized. It felt like the middle of the night even though it was only an hour before all the other servants would be up. She was eager to get a head start on her regular tasks for the day so she would have more time to play with the gorgeous flowers and find her way to making something presentable. She knew it would be poor form to begin the project before her other work was done, so her plan was to ask Mrs. Waters’ advice about what time she could begin. As the cook, she was always up first, even before Mrs. Van White. Charlotte did not want to overstep and begin too early.

Reaching the bottom of the stairs, she ducked into the linen closet to find a sturdy apron for the day. She could feel her nerves rise with her anticipation—all those blooms waiting for her and her bold offer to Mrs. Van White, and yet she was not sure how it would all come together. She knew that Mrs. Van White would not hold it against her if her effort failed, but she still very much wanted to show herself capable. _Sigh._

___________

Mrs. Waters smiled at Charlotte’s enthusiasm for her flower project. To have something to do that was a joy was always a gift. Most of the day-to-day novelty of cooking for Mrs. Waters had given way, but even now she loved the rush of excitement before a special dinner or making a new recipe for the family.

“I think it would be fine if you started at 5:30, Charlotte. Any earlier would be unseemly and, even if you were not at fault, you would not want to be blamed if someone were to awaken by chance.”

“Thank you, Mrs. Waters. I will prepare my cleaning supplies, then.”

__________

By breakfast time, Charlotte was relieved to have finished more than half her morning’s work and was hopeful that, even with a few interruptions due to the full house, she would be able to start on the flowers by 9:30 or 10. After breakfast, she cleaned the mirrors, mopped the stairs, and took a tray to Miss Lambe. She only had to check the ground floor fireplaces and it would be time to gather her supplies for her project. Her face lit up at the thought.

Charlotte was walking briskly in the hunt for the finish line when she pulled up abruptly at the doorway to the study. Mr. Sidney was seated at the beautiful walnut desk facing her and looked as though he had been in deep thought until she appeared. _That was not quite polished, Charlotte,_ she admonished herself. He did not look annoyed, however, and just regarded her as she gathered herself. Mild embarrassment was quickly overtaken by the wave that washed over her whenever she saw him. She could not seem to suppress it, but after a few days, she was no longer surprised. _You have this handled, Charlotte._

She had learned to speak without speaking, a newly acquired servant skill, and glanced at the direction she was headed—the fireplace—and looked at him with her question in her eyes. He nodded, still looking at her, understanding she wished to check the fireplace. Without thinking, she stole a glance back his way once she was behind him at the fireplace.

It was difficult not to think of him. Not only was he the finest looking man she had ever seen, but their encounters over the last few days had also been frequent and proximate, and she found him a puzzle underneath that very attractive exterior. She had seen him vulnerable and amused and critical and closed off. Late yesterday afternoon, she was sure she had heard him yelling at the other end of the main floor. His words had been lost, but neither of the other Parker men had his richly resonant baritone voice. Had he been mad at Tom? For some reason, she could not imagine another scenario. And then just now, when she had come in, he had looked introspective and indecisive. It was an unexpected expression to see on him--most of the time he appeared confident, even to a fault.

She tried to put these thoughts away and focus on the project that she had been looking forward to all day but was interrupted again as she passed by the desk and caught his scent. _Why does he have to smell SO intoxicating?_ she thought, but she had to admit it was a failed attempt at annoyance.

__________

After breakfast, Sidney began the day at his desk feeling more at peace than he had in a very long time, although his circumstances were unchanged. Tom was still Tom. Georgiana was still his disgruntled ward and he did not have any thoughts about what to do differently with her. Edward Denham was still living in his home, and he was definitely not at ease over that.

The calm Sidney felt did not keep him from mulling over how Tom had made the decision to hire Edward without consulting him. If Tom felt so obliged to acquiesce to Lady Denham’s request, Sidney thought he needed to find out more. Was it just Tom’s general insecurity or was it something more, perhaps in the finances themselves? He did not want to ask Tom and be caught in another argument or by his lack of candor once again, so he decided to be judicious in his inquiries.

And so, his life’s trajectory was really still on the same path as yesterday morning. But it felt like his eyes were more open. He felt less closed off, less numb, less...reluctant. When he had let himself consider his past, he had no idea that it would lead to the feelings he had today. He knew he wasn’t finished. It felt more like a beginning, new footing.

His thoughts returned to Georgiana. Mostly he had left her with Mrs. Griffiths in Sanditon these last months. Initially, in Antigua, after her father’s death, they had been closer. She had been crushed and he was guarded, but they leaned on each other in small ways. Now, he spent his time back and forth between London and Sanditon with his business, and he did not figure he was great company to anyone but the likes of Babers and Crowe. The closest they had come to peace for the last year was a patchy détente, born of leading separate lives. It had seemed for the best. Until now.

_The truth: I have mostly put her out of my mind as much as possible. I do not know what to do with her. She is almost a woman but still requires protection. She has her own mind about things and resents that I brought her here. But it was her own father’s wish. How can she blame me? Sigh._

He forced himself to return his thoughts to his own role in her life. _But what does she need? What did I need at that age? What did I need after my parents died? ......In truth, I have no idea right now._

Sidney decided the only thing to do for now might be to attempt to spend more time with her, as she would allow. Observe her more closely. Seek her out, whether it incited her wrath or not. She loved London and was away from Mrs. Griffiths, so perhaps that was a start to being on the right foot.

Sidney was just finishing his thoughts about Georgiana when Charlotte appeared in the doorway. He had given up calling her Miss Heywood in his mind. She was frequently on his mind and she was the maid. She needed to be “Charlotte” to him before he embarrassed himself by addressing her as "Miss Heywood" out loud in front of the other staff or his family. Besides, he very much liked her Christian name.

She looked a little startled to see him, but then with her eyes she had asked the question if it was alright for her to check the fireplace. He thought to wave her off, for he had built it up when he came in, but she would be trying to do her job properly, and he thought to let her carry on. And maybe it felt a little disappointing to send her away so quickly. It also felt somewhat stilted and artificial to be at arms’ length after their time at the fireplace yesterday.

As she walked by, he took in her more statuesque appearance. She looked quite womanly with her hair up and she had a beautiful neck. Although her curls suited her well, this was quite becoming. She was wearing a small locket that set off her collarbone and he was once again feeling unmoored by her desirability. It was more than her figure and dimple and big brown eyes. It was in how she carried herself, her confidence and innocence, quick-wittedness and unpretentiousness. She seemed vivid and real and....

Sidney shook his head and went back to work as best he could, just glancing at her back as she left. She was distracting to be sure.

__________

Not long after Charlotte left, Mary stopped by.

“Sidney, do you have a minute?”

“Of course, Mary. What is it?”

“Well, it’s Tom’s birthday on Saturday. Normally, we would have a special dessert with the family and the children would give him a few gifts, but lately he has been more agitated that usual and I would love to do something to distract him.”

“Do you have something in mind?”

“Yes, actually. On Saturday night, there is a performance of Handel’s _Messiah_ at the Hanover Square Rooms to begin Yuletide. It’s the annual benefit concert for the _Royal Society of Musicians_ so it does have some cache, as Tom prefers. We used to love attending concerts together when we were courting.” She sighed. “Truth be told, I thought it might be an improvement on attending yet another ball to ‘promote Sanditon.’ I would love to avoid watching him spend an entire evening passing out cards to the beau monde who couldn’t care less, on his birthday no less.” She finished with a pained look. Then she continued, “At least at the concert, he’d have to sit in his seat for most of it.”

Sidney smiled. “Hmmm. You have something there. In fact, I would prefer the same, as I could hardly turn him down to attend a ball on his birthday. You have saved us both.”

Sidney thought about it and was quite certain the concert organizer was Sir George Thomas Smart. He was a Handelian and an organizer of many London musical events, not to mention a fine musician and conductor in his own right. As a teenager, Sidney had studied piano rather seriously with him. He had only seen him once at a social gathering since returning from Antigua, but Sir George had acted very pleased to see him and even offered him seats to any event he was in charge of, if Sidney was ever so inclined. He had seemed sincere and the best seats at Saturday night’s concert were unlikely to be available by now. However, he decided not to mention the connection to Mary in case it didn’t work out.

“Mary, I should be able to get us seats of some sort, but I’ll let you know by tomorrow evening.”

“Oh Sidney, would you? You know you do too much for your brother, don’t you?”

“Well, Tom practically saved my life, and I will not ever forget that, not to mention that you and the children are there to remind me why Tom can’t fail whenever I forget his virtues.” Sidney said with what he hoped was good humor.

“You are too kind, Sidney. We are lucky to have you.”

“Not at all, Mary” Sidney shook his head. “Sometimes I think I’ve been a more reluctant brother and friend to him than I care to admit. I just wish I knew the best way to help him.”

“I admit, I’m at a loss myself. He...he doesn’t confide in me about anything of substance anymore and I can’t help but feel he is hiding the true state of things. Do you know anything, Sidney?”

“Not much. He asks me to help with payments for things, approach the banks. But I must say that I am in the habit of turning him down as so much of what he talks about are new projects. I do not have much specific knowledge of how the terrace apartments are coming along or how much money the project brought in this year. Most of it is financed through Lady Denham so she gets the largest cut first.”

Mary nodded. “I understand. Well, thank you, Sidney. It will be good to get him out for the evening for a slightly different itinerary. Do you think Georgiana would like to join us?”

“Thank you for asking, Mary. I really don’t know. I will ask her.”

Mary nodded and left, and Sidney sat down to write a letter to Sir George.

___________

It was almost 10am when Charlotte returned from bring Miss Lambe’s tray back down from her room. Finally, she was ready to begin work on her project. Mrs. Van White gave her the go ahead, but she did not have time to assist her with anything but the ribbon she requested, so she sent Charlotte to see Mr. Jenkins.

“Excuse me, Mr. Jenkins. Mrs. Van White has sent me to see you about a few supplies I am gathering for a project.”

“Tell me more, Miss Charlotte.” She loved how he called her that. It seemed Mr. Jenkins had taken a liking to her.

“Well, you probably know that we received a large delivery of flowering paperwhite and amaryllis bulbs by mistake yesterday afternoon. Mrs. Van White was unsure what to do with them and I..., I volunteered to see if I could do something with them.

“The trouble is, I’m a bit nervous now. I have an idea what I want to do, but almost all the vessels in the house are vases and they are too tall and narrow or out of proportion to balance the appearance of the long, upright stems. The flowers don’t create a proper bouquet. They almost need planters or flat pots or...I don’t know. I guess I’m asking if there are other possible containers that would work. If not, I will just try to figure out how to display them on the mantles.”

Mr. Jenkins thought for a few moments, his finger at his lips, and then regarded the distressed Charlotte before he said. “Miss Charlotte, I have an idea. Fetch your pelisse and meet me at the rear landing in five minutes. We’re going out to the garden.”

Charlotte was excited but perplexed. She felt she’d met a kindred spirit in Mr. Jenkins but what did he have in mind?

Once at the back door, Mr.Jenkins bid her, “Let’s go.”

The fresh and crisp December air hit Charlotte’s lungs and face like she had not breathed properly, felt the world rightly, in days. To be sure, there was the tinge of coal smoke as was ever present in London, but to Charlotte, she might as well have home on the farm in Sussex.

The garden was very generous for the size of the family's home. Being in London, garden spaces were rare and highly sought after for those who could afford them. The space was framed by trees which provided a screen from other homes and created a semi-private oasis of natural beauty. There were the winter buds on a magnolia nearby, a dogwood, several aspen, a very tall stand of holly, and a few scrubby Scots pines that filled the air with a woodsy scent.

A narrow kitchen garden ran along the outer wall just outside the door of the servants’ entrance, with three neat parterres hosting mostly edible plants with tidy habits. Boxwood created structure along the corners and open-branching ornamental shrubs grounded the center of each bed. Symmetrical plantings of herbs, along with winter vegetables like onions, leeks, Brussels sprouts, cabbages, and French escarole and rainbow chard were composed in neat rows.

Mirroring the kitchen garden on the opposite wall was a pattern of manicured shrubbery of various heights and hues with a few benches scattered among the paths. Down the center to the back wall was a swath of lawn flanked by two lush perennial borders that appeared infused with French plantings--lavender, rosemary, sage, mallow, and foxglove were recognizable. A hard frost had held off and many of the plants, while not blooming, were still green and inviting.

Charlotte scarcely had time to appreciate the plants as she tried to figure out where they were going. They were headed straight toward the wall at the back of the garden. Almost at the back they passed a row of dwarf Italian Cypress, and a small brick potting shed with a copper green tiled roof appeared from behind the green screen, nestled into the garden wall.

With a twinkle in his eye, Mr. Jenkins pulled out a large key and smiled like a Cheshire cat. “I had almost forgotten about this place. I believe we may find what you are after in here.”

With a rattle of the lock and a squeal from the heavy iron hinges, the door swung open and Charlotte peaked inside. As Charlotte’s eyes adjusted to the dark, she could make out the outline of a shuttered window, stacks of ribbed and fluted terra cotta pots, and a wall covered from floor-to-ceiling in rows of urns, each row stacked on top of the next, separated by a length of board.

Mr. Jenkins stepped over to the window and released the catch that held the shutters together and pushed them to either side. Light flooded the small room.

“Wha...?” The look of marvel on Charlotte’s face touched Mr. Jenkins and he explained.

“The senior Mrs. Parker, the siblings’ mother, was an avid gardener. She loved French pottery, as well as the terra cotta from her native Greece. Some of these she collected herself, but more often, once the children were born, Mr. Parker liked to bring them back to her from his travels to France and elsewhere.”

He continued, “Now these urns are lovely, but perhaps the terra cotta is a bit rustic for the main rooms. Let’s see if what I think is in the cupboard is still there.”

He moved over to a floor to ceiling cabinet and open that door, as well. Inside were colorful glazed pots of mustard yellow, Provençal blue, and grass green, and exquisite planters and jardinieres, some brass or copper, some painted with floral motifs and some worn with time, but all splendid pieces.

“Mr. Jenkins. These are incredibly special. Are you sure I may use these?”

“Well, I will check with Mrs. Parker, but I doubt very much Mr. Tom Parker will object,” he said with a chuckle. “It is a shame they have not been used for a very long time. They always held the summer plantings of Mrs. Parker.”

Charlotte spent a few minutes surveying the pots before she carefully pulled a few out and set them on the counter. Mr. Jenkins told her that he would send Thomas out to help with the heavier ones.

“I don’t know yet if Mrs. Van White is going to approve what I am doing.”

“Well, we tend to work together on those matters, and I have final say what goes in the dining room,” he said with a wink. “I will give you the key. Please be careful with it, of course. I think it is one of a kind and I wouldn’t want to have to call the locksmith. You may come and go as you please, as you work.”

“How can I ever thank you, sir?”

“Seeing them put to good use is reward enough, Miss Charlotte. Mrs. Parker was a very special lady.”

“Erm....I have one more question. I don’t mean to sound presumptuous, but I had an idea for the designs. I noticed there are some baby, volunteer ferns and the like around the potting shed. Would I be able to harvest some of them? And moss, too?”

“Of course. In a way, on this city lot, they are actually beautiful weeds, not really where they belong, so the gardener won’t miss them come spring. Just let me know if you have any other questions.”

__________

From his view at the French doors in the sitting room, Sidney had glimpsed Charlotte and Mr. Jenkins disappear into the back of the garden and couldn’t think what they would be doing. The only thing back there was the potting shed.

Georgiana entered and said in a clipped tone, “You beckoned, Sidney?”

Sidney tempered a smile, for he knew she would not be happy to enter into a conversation voluntarily. Her predictability of mood, though sad, was not completely atypical of a young person, and he would do better to remember that. “Yes, Georgiana. I was hoping we could chat a bit about what you wish to do in London over the next few weeks.”

“Well, so far, I have received an invitation to a ball for next weekend, Miss Barrymore and Miss Fox invited me for cards and games next Wednesday, and Miss Steward has invited me to walk with her tomorrow afternoon. It’s not much, but it’s something. “

“That sounds like a good start. Make sure you take Mr. Jenkins or Thomas with you on your outings. I would appreciate it if you try to avoid Edward the footman. You may not have noticed, but he is the estranged nephew of Lady Denham.”

Georgiana looked shocked. She had not known Lady Denham had a nephew and wondered what could have precipitated him coming to work at Bedford Place.

“Yes, I thought you would be curious. To be honest, I am not completely sure why that is, myself. But for now, try to steer clear of him.”

Georgiana nodded.

Sidney continued. “I would like for you to consider joining the family for a concert on Saturday night.”

The look on her face could not have been more disdainful.

Sidney smiled and raised his hand, for he knew this would be her response. “Before you say no by severing my head from my neck with your gaze, I am hoping to procure tickets from an old friend of mine. They will be likely be exceptionally fine seats, if I do. It is a fundraiser for the Royal Society of Music, so we are likely to be seated among, not only the devoted members of my family,” he said with a wink, “but with a few members of the aristocracy and certainly the beau monde. And it is Handel’s _Messiah_. There are more boring musical works.”

Her ears perked up, “You have such connections to the aristocracy? In addition to Lord Babington, who hardly counts.”

Sidney had to laugh at that. Of course she wouldn’t “count” Lord Babington. “You know very well our family does not usually hurt for invitations, but in this case, yes, the company will likely be exceptionally regal. I can’t promise, but if I procure a ticket for you, will you join us?”

In truth, Sidney had already included her ticket in the request, knowing that he could likely persuade Babington to attend as well, as Esther was still in Sanditon, if Georgiana dropped out.

“I suppose. Is there anything else?” she asked.

“I have been told you’ll be receiving an invitation to Miss Denham’s for tea when she is back in London and I thought we might go to the theatre a time or two. Perhaps you might like to invite Miss Stewart to return her kindness.”

Georgiana was somewhat pleased by Sidney’s thoughtfulness, but it could not replace the months of brooding she had done at Mrs. Griffith’s while she felt like a cast-off, so she kept her countenance schooled in her usual world-weary look.

“Very well,” she said. “I will check into which plays are running. Is there anything else?”

Sidney glanced down, thinking. Then he decided against raising anything else with her just yet.

“No. That is all.”

As Georgiana retreated to her room, Sidney turned back to face the garden and saw Charlotte coming around the cypress with some pots. _My mother’s pots. And Jenkins is helping her. What are they doing?_

__________

He had buried quite deeply the memories of his mother in the potting shed. It was her favorite place, from early spring when the worst of winter was over until late autumn. All these years later, probably because he had scarcely thought of the memory, it felt raw. He could picture her loving dark eyes, olive skin, contented smile and soil-covered hands puttering over the counter, shuffling and arranging flowers and plants that would grace the patio and little nooks around the garden.

Having just reopened the wound of his parents’ deaths the day before, he could feel that it was right to remember, to not hide from the grief, but he wasn’t sure if he could visit the space himself. And it troubled him that someone else was moving her things. Was it good? Was it bad? He didn’t know. He just knew loving hurt, really hurt, for the first time in a long time.

__________

Mr. Jenkins sent Thomas to carry the urns that Charlotte wanted, for he had little mind to send Edward when he was so obviously not suited to his position, and likely could not be trusted. It troubled him greatly that Tom had made the decision to hire him, particularly without consulting him as the butler. It seemed out of character, even for Tom, and certainly unprecedented since he had been hired to the top position years ago. However, he sensed that it was for some purposefully concealed reason and it would be better, for now, not to say anything.

When all the urns were set on the crushed gravel near the staff entrance, Mr. Jenkins showed Charlotte where to get soil and provided her with tools for her work.

__________

It took Charlotte most of the rest of the day and into the night to finish her work. A few times, Charlotte had needed to go in to help Mrs. Van White with tasks, but mostly she let her work with the flowers.

Charlotte thought it had gone quite well and both Mr. Jenkins and Mrs. Van White had expressed their delight at what she had done with the first arrangements. Mr. Jenkins had also brought her felt “feet” for the bottom of the rustic urns so they could be placed anywhere in the house and given her permission to use more plant material from the garden.

When she tied the last bow and dusted the last bit of excess soil from the edge of the final planter, it was almost midnight. Thomas had kindly stayed to help with Mrs. Van White's permission. He moved the finished arrangements into the still room for her, to wait to be placed around the rooms in the morning.

She did not know if they were to the standard of the public rooms of Bedford Place, but she knew she had done her best work. Even on a normal day, the ground floor rooms and upstairs sitting room were graced with flower arrangements from one of the finest florists in London. However, she was pretty certain that the urns would at least be suitable for the patio, for they could take some frost, and the other vessels could be used on the bedroom mantles and side tables.

With a satisfied stretch and a yawn, Charlotte blew out all but one candle and made her way to the staircase....just in time to see Edward’s long leg making a turn above her on the landing. She froze and waited a few minutes before proceeding to her room, wondering what he might have been up to at such a late hour.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, a benefit concert of Handel's Messiah was given at the Hanover Square Rooms for the Royal Society of Musicians in the years from 1785 to 1848. More information can be found here: https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Hanover_Square_Rooms
> 
> A charming potting shed: https://www.alamy.com/brick-shed-in-garden-image239705081.html?pv=1&stamp=2&imageid=A8936B77-1C88-4156-9C87-0EDC94748EFF&p=15086&n=0&orientation=0&pn=1&searchtype=0&IsFromSearch=1 
> 
> For those interested in the appearance of the planters and urns, here are some examples. 
> 
> The Pots and Jardinieres on the 1st Dibs sale site are kind of unbelievable. Gorgeous and $3000 and up. All the pieces in the story are now exceptional antiques and are prices to match. Here's a link to 18th Century and Early planters: https://www.1stdibs.com/furniture/building-garden/planters-jardinieres/17th-c-hand-carved-stone-planter-jardiniere-decorative-antiques-center-piece-la/id-f_17303052/
> 
> Other specific links.
> 
> French Cast Iron Regency Urns: https://www.1stdibs.com/furniture/building-garden/urns/pair-of-painted-cast-iron-regency-urns-volute-handles/id-f_509265/
> 
> French Anduze Urns: https://www.1stdibs.com/furniture/decorative-objects/vases-vessels/vases/large-pair-of-anduze-urns/id-f_586643/
> 
> Green Glazed Terra Cotta Planter: https://www.1stdibs.com/furniture/building-garden/planters-jardinieres/19th-century-french-green-glazed-terracotta-planter-from-anduze/id-f_17510681/?gclid=EAIaIQobChMIq57gzZCg7gIVrf_jBx2ZxAULEAQYASABEgKLt_D_BwE&gclsrc=aw.ds
> 
> Regency Period, French Demi-Lune Copper Planter: https://www.1stdibs.com/furniture/building-garden/planters-jardinieres/antique-regency-copper-brass-demilune-planter/id-f_5626683/
> 
> More floral arrangement notes and pics will be at the end of the next chapter.


	5. The Unmaking

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Love all your comments and ideas about where we’re headed! They make me think and laugh! I am also relieved that so many of you liked Sidney’s introspections. 
> 
> Sidney is kind of sick of himself and is ripe for an avalanche of self-examination and awareness, and Charlotte’s appearance was the catalyst for these last few days. Know that until the last week, he has been the same brooding, closed-off bad boy that we know and love. 
> 
> I have always thought that it was more than a bad break-up that made Sidney so numb. Also, with Charlotte being the maid, he needs to get a little head start on his personal development since, if I let her be constantly cross with him as his primary personal growth motivator, she would be fired. So here we are. 
> 
> And not to worry. Charlotte will still be ruffling his feathers as we go along. That is Sidlotte, after all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Experimenting with pics and music. LMK what you think. Hopefully helpful and not distracting. 
> 
> UPDATE: The goal is for the music to play while you are in the browser, reading. YouTube works well on computers to play in the background, but not iPhones. AppleMusic seems to be the opposite, even with an account. I'll try to add a Spotify link at the top today. (Is Spotify bigger in Europe/UK? I have a free account but haven't sprung for the premium)
> 
> There's a bit of a gruesome fairy tale in the chapter, but most were back then. No Disney to clean them up 😉. Hopefully it won't put anyone off.
> 
> Also, this story is unfolding in a more personal way than I anticipated. Not quite autobiographical, but I've been surprised how many themes and characters have shown up from my world. Maybe that's typical, but I've never done this before.
> 
> Anyway, this chapter fits with a song that has long tugged at my heart when I look back at what I've had to "unmake" or still need to unmake. Like Sidney.
> 
> The Unmaking, Nicole Nordeman  
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=VQkHD15J7HI
> 
> My favorite line from it is this: Sitting in the rubble I can see the stars.
> 
> Some of the other lyrics: 
> 
> This is where the walls gave way  
> This is demolition day  
> All the debris and all this dust  
> What is left of what once was  
> Sorting through what goes and what should stay
> 
> The longer and the tighter that we hold  
> Only makes it harder to let go  
> Love will not stay locked inside  
> A steeple or a tower high  
> Only when we're broken are we whole
> 
> This is the unmaking  
> Beauty and the breaking  
> Had to lose myself to find out who you are  
> Before each beginning  
> There must be an ending  
> Sitting in the rubble  
> I can see the stars
> 
> ✨To all the readers who have ever had to unmake themselves, this chapter is for you.✨

**Friday**  
**4 December 1818**

(Charlotte's flower displays are prettier, but...close 😉. Planter/Urn pics are now included in the body of Chapter 4.)

By the time Sidney had fully broken his fast with eggs and chops, every member of the Parker household had engaged him on the topic of the flower arrangements. It was uncanny.

Even Tom.

“What smells like perfume?” he asked, crinkling his nose and sniffing. “Is it those flowers? Did we hire a new florist?”

Then, Georgiana came in and sat across from him. “Where did the gorgeous flowers come from? They remind me of the tropical blooms in Antigua.” It was the most significant offer of conversation he had had from her in weeks, maybe months.

But Sidney shrugged and went back to eating.

A few minutes later, Arthur and Diana came in all aflutter. “Oh, look! Aren’t these lovely? They smell divine!” “What glorious blooms! Have you ever seen such magnificence?”

He let them carry on between themselves. More eggs. More coffee.

Finally, Mary entered with broad smile, “Sidney, did you see the arrangements? Aren’t they beautiful? Did you hear that Charlotte created them? Amazing.”

With a sigh and a tight nod, Sidney had to admit that, yes, they were.

The regal blooms were sophisticated enough for Bedford Place, but spoke of woodland, tropics, and meadow all at once. The scarlet and white colors were dramatic, and the jardinieres and urns set the perfect stage for under-plantings of baby button and maiden ferns, and Scotch and plume moss.

Unfortunately, they were also the source of Sidney’s agitation. In turn, his agitation annoyed him. If such a thing were possible. He wanted to be on the side of beauty and his family’s enthusiasm. Nevertheless, every time he looked at one of the pots, he had a visceral sense of his mother, his _mitéra_ , and her absence.

His memories of her were intimately tied to the potting shed and her planter collection, things that had been disturbed and repurposed without her. _My god. Am I being ridiculous? No one else seems bothered. Tom, Diana, Arthur. Do they not remember that she was the gardener, that all these pots used to be scattered all over Bedford Place every summer, that many were gifts from father?_

He knew he could hardly blame Charlotte. How was she to know that he would have wished the planters to be left alone? Nevertheless, since she had been hired, nothing had been the same. Sometimes for better, but maybe, now, for the worse.

 _Exhale._ He knew he had to go the garden, his mother’s oasis, her haven. He was uncertain whether he would find solace, but he knew he would find her.

He almost reached for a smoke, but he thought better of it, not wanting to distract himself in any way. As he headed outside, he felt the chill, but he did not want his great coat either. He readied himself as best he could to feel everything.

__________

After breakfast Charlotte spent time with Mrs. Van White to prepare the Parker family Christmas decorations. It had already been a busy morning.

For the first few hours of the day, she and Mr. Jenkins and Thomas worked together to set out the flower arrangements, sometimes placing one large urn on a table, other times grouping them by color and size into the sort of vignette one might see in a still life painting. After that she had dusted and cleaned the floors to make sure there was no trace of dirt left from their work.

Midmorning, Mrs. Parker came downstairs to see Mrs. Van White.

“The flowers, Mrs. Van White! They are so beautiful. Wherever did they come from?”

Mrs. Van White explained that there had been a mistaken delivery and how Charlotte, with the help of Mr. Jenkins, had assembled the arrangements. Mary came and found her in the next room and thanked her profusely. Charlotte blushed and tried to suppress her wide grin. She had no reason to believe it would change the temporary nature of her role, but it was still very gratifying, and she was so pleased to have made Mrs. Parker happy.

__________

Sidney knew a visit to the potting shed would be the most trying, so he first took the path through the shrubbery garden to his mother’s special tree. The silvery olive had been planted from a seedling brought from France, a gift from her parents. And though it came from France, it was a descendant of the trees from their ancestral home in Greece, the childhood home Theodora had known she was ten years old when she moved with her family to France.

England did not have the preferred climate for the Mediterranean species, but the tree had simply grown more slowly and ended up with the most beautifully gnarled trunk beneath its shrubby canopy of slender shimmering leaves.

He leaned his back against it, breathed in the woody scent and ran his hand down the rough bark. He could see his mother sitting in a garden chair on a summer’s day near the tree when it had been not much taller than her. That particular day was unusually hot for London and his mother’s skin glowed like she was made for such weather. Diana was leaning against her legs, their mother’s fingers braiding her hair while Arthur picked up fallen pink rose petals and tried to put them in his mouth. Tom was playing with his wooden castle under the shade of the pine across the way. When it became too hot for them, glasses of honey-sweetened lemonade with mint from the garden quenched their thirst. His mother looked so contented.

Sidney bent down and picked up one of the olives that had fallen to the ground. It was still firm and garnet red with a tinge of purple, but he knew if he bruised it a bit, its green smell would come out. Just like when he was a boy, he did just that. He sniffed it and caught a whiff of green grass. Then he placed it between his teeth and punctured the firm skin. He was too tempted even though he knew the bitterness would make him grimace. He smiled through pursed lips. Yes. Just like when he was a boy. To make them edible, they had to be cured in some way, whether they were picked green or black or somewhere in between.

With some reluctance, Sidney left the olive tree and wandered along the back wall to the potting shed. He had forgotten it would be locked. He knew many of the pots that had been there yesterday were now in the house. Maybe he did not need to go inside, and it was for the best, he thought.

He stepped closer and touched frame around the doorway and looked up at the copper roof, wondering where the tiles had come from. He would have to ask Mr. Jenkins or Tom to see if they knew more about its construction. He had just peered in the window, noting the shutters were open, when he heard the swish of a skirt come around the corner.

“Oh. Mr. Parker.”

“Hello, Charlotte.” For a moment she could hear only his rich tones wrapped around her given name. But the effect was fleeting because she could see how distracted, and rather grim, he appeared. He looked to be on an errand that she had interrupted.

“Would you like for me to unlock the shed, Mr. Parker?”

“Uh, oh no. Well....maybe.” He looked lost.

“The key is here,” she said, pulling it out of her apron pocket. “I was just returning a few small pots.”

“I see.”

He took the key from her and helped her open the door. She glanced up at him as she passed.  
He did not, would not, look at her it seemed.

She decided it was best to put away the pots and leave as swiftly as possible.

__________

After she was gone, Sidney leaned over the counter on his elbows and ran his fingers through his hair. _Why...how...did I sever myself from her memories so completely?_ Occasionally he had thought of his father, but more because of his relationship with Tom. And likely because it was easier.

He looked around.

Along the side of the pottery cabinet, her tools were spaced on hooks, dusty, untouched, hanging from their worn leather straps. _Mr. Jenkins must have lent Charlotte the gardener’s tools instead._ He glanced around more. _There is the leather mat she kneeled on to keep her skirts clean._

_Oh._

There on a shelf in the corner, between the mat and her soft and worn brown leather gloves, was her lace fichu. The long triangle of white lace was usually worn by French women over their shoulders, but his mother had often tied it over her hair like a scarf while she worked in the garden. He could see her profile in it, kneeling over the flower beds, occasionally looking down the row at him, smiling. Sometimes he helped her, and sometimes he played close by.

When he touched the cloth, he could smell the flowers on her and feel the softness of her arms, her hugs, for she was a typical Greek mother so there were many. Overcome, he grasped the cloth in his fist and slid down the back of the door and buried his face in his knees. _God, how I miss her._ The tears began to roll.

Sidney had more than his mitéra’s dark Greek looks. Like her, he was impassioned but measured, determined and sensitive, intelligent, though not particularly bookish. More than most children, he needed someone in his life who understood him, and she had been that person.

Because of this, she had known that he would take to the pianoforte. Just as it had been for her, music was a language he spoke fluently from the beginning and they enjoyed it together--attending concerts and playing music together. He could still see her graceful, strong, fluid hands moving across the piano or, sometimes, her fingers on the violin. What they had shared had been a gift, he knew; but sadly, it also meant that as a young man, barely more than a boy, he had not been prepared to live life without her.

His parents’ deaths were so sudden, taken at sea on a trip to Spain. Sidney had been instantly overwhelmed with loneliness. Tom was just married. Diana and Arthur were young and, as ever, two peas in a pod. Sidney had Babs and Crowe, but they were boys in men’s pants and had little to offer but bawdy jokes, encouragements to get well-oiled at the pub, and a slap on the back from time to time.

He closed himself off so much. He had never even visited his parents’ memorial. _What kind of son am I?_

Uncle George lived not far from them in London and tried to be helpful. The governess had stayed on, but she had always been more of a mother’s helper and was there to help young Tom and Mary finish raising Arthur and Diana. It was no wonder that he had taken up with Eliza so soon.

She was supposed to be his salvation, his comfort. She was the most composed young woman he had ever met, and he still had to acknowledge her beauty. Her hair was like spun gold, and her sparkling blue eyes and soft expression had embodied a tenderness that felt like a foil to life’s cruelty and hardness. And when he was with her, he could disappear. The whispers and stares that followed him after his parents’ tragic death became whispers of their courtship, a much happier thought.

But he had not seen the dead spot inside her, the place that made her unkind and unsympathetic. Her beauty and her eyes for him, had blinded him to a cynicism that had already taken hold of part of her at seventeen.

He sat for a long time, clutching the cloth. He pushed Eliza out of his memories. She had taken up too much of his life for far too long.

No, the only past he needed now were the memories of his loving parents, Henry and Theodora. His regret for having cut himself off from them almost sent him back into despair, but it was the opposite of what his mother would have wanted. The only way he could defeat the soul-numbing grief that had gripped him for so long was to reclaim the good memories for the gift that they were.

____________

Mary had left with the children for the afternoon to visit a long-time friend and Tom was holed up in his study around the corner, so Charlotte was placing Christmas decorations around the sitting room in their absence. Candles for the windows and extra ones for the mantle, family mementos, and ribbons to place around the candlesticks and the large mirror. Mr. Jenkins had given her some guidance, provided a stepstool and then trusted her to place them around the house while he went to polish the silver.

Charlotte heard Mr. Sidney’s bootsteps and then felt him in the room behind her before she turned around. She did not know whether to stay, or if he would want the room to himself. She ventured a glance over her shoulder.

He appeared still lost in thought. He had not really looked at her since the day before. He had glanced at her to take the key, but he had been very much elsewhere in thought. She knew that she should not be looking for his attentions, for she was the maid, after all, but she could not help but be disappointed and concerned for him.

Neither had he complimented her on the flowers when they met earlier. She did not need the compliment, per se, but Arthur and Mary had sought her out, and the way he had shown up at the potting shed, of all places, seemed odd.

Charlotte thought about what Mr. Jenkins had said yesterday, that no one had been in the shed for years. He had dismissed the idea that Mr. Tom would mind. _But what about Sidney? Were they not his mother’s things, too?_

He was more than a little intimidating when he was brooding, but Charlotte had a strong suspicion, so she decided to approach him.

“Mr. Parker, sir?”

He met her eyes.

“I feel that perhaps I owe you an apology. I am not sure that I had a right to use those pots from the shed for all the arrangements. I would understand if you are upset that I overstepped.”

Sidney starred back at the floor, unsure what to say. He was taken aback by her insight.

Charlotte was feeling more uncomfortable by the moment which seemed like an eternity, so she stammered. “But of course, I do not mean to make assumptions. I am sorry to have bothered you.”

“No. No, I don’t accept your apology,” he said, an unreadable look across his face. She could feel color creeping into her cheeks, part embarrassment but more hurt and anger at his harsh words.

Sidney finally clarified his meaning with a softened look. “You did not know. The arrangements are lovely. They are spectacular, in fact. They show creativity and talent, and I am actually more than a little impressed by your capabilities.

“The flower displays are worthy of the planters, even with their history and meaning to me, and I am certain...I am certain that my mother would have approved.” He finished quietly and smiled softly.

Sidney was surprised himself at all he had said.

“Thank you, Mr. Parker. I can’t imagine all that is true, but you are kind to...”

He raised his hand slightly from his side. “It is. Quite.”

His direct gaze went through her. His words were so complimentary, the color in her cheeks only increased. This man confounded her. How could he be so distant, so stern, one moment and so gentle and gracious the next. Why, if he liked them, had he been so affected this morning?

Charlotte stammered, “Thank you.... sir.”

Sidney realized that he was staring at her. He straightened himself and smiled his back-to-business pleasant smile, somewhat bashfully, but then thought to change the subject, unwilling to allow her to leave just yet.

“I see you are putting out the rest of the Christmas decorations.” He said, reaching for a topic.

“Uhh, yes......... There are some lovely items in here,” she struggled, still recovering from his altered comportment.

Sidney’s prompt had left her with little to say but the inanest pleasantries. He felt stupid for stranding her there and he was not sure what else to say.

Risking the lines of servant code, Charlotte asked, “Are there any items that are particularly special to you?”

Sidney smiled, grateful for her rally, and peered into the wooden box resting on the floor. After handling a few items, he pulled out a tall green glass decanter half-filled a mysterious crystalline substance. “Well, this.” He regarded it for a moment and then turned to her with a twinkle in his eyes. “Do you have any idea what a jar of pickling salt has to do with Christmas?” he asked with a raised eyebrow, as though it was the most intriguing question.

Charlotte half-grimaced, half-smirked. “I’m not sure. Is it something to do with the legend of Saint Nicholas?”

“Very good.” said Sidney, impressed. “Every year on December 6th, Saint Nicholas Day, before handing out presents to us, my father would take this jar off the mantle here and set it out on the table and tell us the story of how Saint Nicholas came to the rescue of three children who had met their deaths at the hands of a butcher. He put them in a pickling barrel and intended to sell them as ham.”

Charlotte stared at him, somewhat horrified, and not sure if he was pulling her leg. He appeared serious. She had really only guessed that it was related to Saint Nicholas.  
“Have you not heard the whole tale?”

Charlotte shook her head and he continued.

“Seven years after their deaths, Saint Nicholas stopped by the very same spot, and somehow knowing what had transpired, asked to be taken to the pickling barrel. The butcher fled, and St. Nick made his way over to the barrel. He placed his fingers on the barrel’s edge, and praying to God, brought the three little boys back to life.

“Father used to tell us that THIS salt was from the same barrel where the children had succumbed to their briny deaths.” He chuckled, lines of amusement appearing around his eyes. “It was a bit of a horror story. Diana and Arthur were truly mortified. They probably were five, six, or seven when he began telling that story. Come to think of it, that might account for some of their current tendencies.”

Both of them laughed at that, for Charlotte had become well aware of their reliance on medicinal fortifications and delicate constitutions.

“They must have been horrified.” Charlotte suppressed a giggle. “Poor Diana and Arthur.”

“Indeed,” but his face showed he did not think it terribly serious or the true cause of their nerves. He was somewhat surprised that Charlotte appeared to understand Arthur and Diana already and was touched at her good-humored yet caring reaction.

At that, Sidney realized he had overstepped with her again, but it felt so good to tell the tale and experience her vivid laugh that he found he did not really care. To share his memory of his father, especially after several days of such intense feeling about his family’s past and his parents’ deaths, was a gift.

Charlotte was affected too, for it was both amazing to see Sidney’s full smile light up his face, and her own Christmas memories with her family had come to mind.

Both of them were feeling happy but rapidly becoming self-conscious with each other so they smiled, and each excused themselves--Sidney to his study off of the sitting room and Charlotte to resume her decorating at the mantle.

__________

After a few hours’ work, Sidney leaned back and stretched in his chair. The time in the garden had done much to settle him, as had his conversation with Charlotte. His heart was achy but alive. Now, when he looked at the flower arrangements, his real memories of his mother were present instead of a shadow cast from her loss, trapped inside an object. Without a doubt, the planters would remain precious reminders of her, but his connection with her was relocated to his mind and his heart.

For a time, Charlotte had remained in the sitting room putting out the Christmas decorations, and he had been subjected to the pleasurable torment of her nearness. His desk in the study faced the doorway and as she moved around to the near side of the mantle or toward the French doors, he could see her working. Her presence was calming and tension-inducing. She was really lovely--her skirts swooshing around her legs, her shoes and ankles peeking out when she reached up or climbed the step stool.

Sidney tried to keep his eyes on the ledger he’d brought from Tom’s office, but she had worn her hair up for the second day in a row and the nape of her neck was a source of fascination even at this distance. When she was on the top step of stool, reaching fully for the top of the mirror over the mantlepiece, he found himself staring at her, wishing to go to her and help her reach the top with the ribbon. He imagined standing on the step behind her, his face at her neck, smelling the scent of her he had at the fireplace: almonds and oranges, rose and beeswax. He would place his arms up behind hers and touch her hands and slowly brush his lips across the nape of her neck to her ear and reach...

“Charlotte! There you are. Mrs. Van White wishes to see you downstairs when you are finished.”

Thomas the footman’s voice interrupted Sidney's wandering thoughts. “Oh, this is very nice, Charlotte. With the beautiful flower arrangements, I am sure the Parkers shall be most pleased with your service.”

Thomas was a valued footman, but Sidney was having difficulty appreciating it in that moment. It irritated him how free Thomas was to converse with Charlotte. He was a good-looking, strong lad about Charlotte’s age. _Their lives must be quite proximate in the servant’s quarters. Common meals, shared tasks, overlapping workspaces. Sigh. At least he might prove helpful in keeping a watchful eye on Edward._

___________

A quarter of an hour or so after he heard Charlotte leave the sitting room, Sidney decided the Sanditon accounts ledger he had plucked from Tom’s large pile was useless to his queries, and he should go find the children. He heard them come in earlier and he had arranged with Mary to spend time with them that afternoon. They were his one true delight, and it was unlike him to go so long without seeing his nieces and nephews. So far on their visit, he had only stopped by the nursery briefly to greet them.

He returned with them to the sitting room to enjoy the strong afternoon sunlight and the warmth of the larger fireplace. He placed Alicia, Jenny, and Henry in the armchairs in front of the hearth and he sat on the floor with baby James on his lap. “Now where have you all been this last week? I have been looking all over for you. Have you been hiding?” He looked at all of them like they had been the ones missing.

“No, Uncle Siddy.” “No,” said Alicia and Jenny, both very serious.

“Are you sure? Were you hiding in the dungeon with Pythios the Dragon AGAIN? I bet you were feeding him Mrs. Waters' biscuits.

Somberly, they shook their heads.

“Then why is there soot from the cave on your nose?” and with that, Sidney lifted his finger from brushing the fireplace tools behind his back and bopped Jenny’s nose and showed the soot to her.

Jenny was enthralled, but Alicia put her little hands on her hips for she could see that Uncle Sidney had placed it there.

“And you, Henry...have you been hiding in the forest?” With a slight of hand, he pulled a piece of the olive tree bark from his small waistcoat pocket and pretended it had come out of Henry’s sleeve. Even Alicia had to wonder about that.

And so it went for several hours, until the children and Sidney were worn out from playing their favorite games in the sitting room. They had all ended up laying under the pianoforte, out of breath, when Jenny went looked up quizzically and then looked at her uncle.

“Uncle Siddy. What is this?” And she spread her arms out wide to span the “roof” of their fort.

“It’s a pianoforte.”

“What’s a pianoforte? Is it something you hide in?” for they had played fort in the nursery many times.

“No, it is an instrument. You can play music on it.”

The Parker’s pianoforte was a truly gorgeous instrument, but Sidney doubted it had been played in years, certainly not by him. The children did not visit London very much and were so young, so it was likely they had never seen it played.

They all scooted out from under it and stood in front of the bench. Sidney lifted the cover from over the keys and felt a wave of guilt. The instrument had belonged to his parents, a gift to them from the Ministry of France for his father’s diplomatic service. He could scarcely believe it had been over ten years since he had played it.

“Now it’s not to play with...That is, it is not a toy,” he clarified. “But I can show you how it works. If you promise to just look, you may all get up on the bench and peer inside.”

He pulled the bench alongside the instrument so they could see the inner workings better.

“All of these keys can make music if you touch them.”

Sidney played one note and then another and the children watched a hammer move and strike a string every time he did it.

Baby James was less than impressed. He was teething and constantly had his fingers in his mouth. Sidney just caught the drool coming off his mouth with his handkerchief as they leaned over inside of the instrument.

“Can you play music on the pianoforte, Uncle Siddy?” Alicia asked.

“Well, yes. Yes, I suppose I can. Although it’s been a very, VERY long time.”

“Play! Play us a song, Uncle Siddy!” a trio of voices rang out.

Sidney took a deep breath. He felt like he was about to step backwards and forwards simultatneously for the second time that day.

“Okay. Fair enough. How can I turn down you lot?”

“Come. Sit here on the floor with baby James and I will play a song for you.” He took James with him to get sheet music from his study and then returned to regale them with some melodies from both the lighter and more dramatic measures of a few of Mozart’s sonatas.

YouTube [Tzvi Erez plays Mozart Sonata No. 11...K.331, III. Alla turca](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=SQh1zztmpEk)

YouTube [Lang Lang plays Mozart Piano Sonata No. 16, K. 545 "Sonata facile" - I. Allegro](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=jjz4OKQEA9c)

OR

Apple [Tzvi Erez plays Mozart Piano Sonata No. 11, K. 331, III. Alla turca](https://music.apple.com/us/album/piano-sonata-no-11-in-major-k-331-alla-turca-iii-alla/983975032?i=983975038)

Apple [Lang Lang plays Mozart Piano Sonata No. 16, K. 545 I. Allegro](https://music.apple.com/us/album/piano-sonata-no-16-in-c-major-k-545-sonata-facile-1-allegro/1448483849?i=1448484522)

__________

Charlotte was wiping down the windows in Tom’s front study when she heard the children cheering and then a few moments later, the sound of piano keys. It sounded like Uncle Sidney, aka “Uncle Siddy,” was the life of the party. Charlotte added it to her catalogue of attributes of one mysterious Sidney Parker and then did her best to tuck those thoughts away again.

That is, until she heard him begin to play a melody on the piano. Light but intricate, the tune made her imagine mice dancing or the first sounds of woodland creatures tittering in the springtime. She could not resist the pull to try and watch him play. She grabbed her rag and went to dust the stair rail across from the open doorway to the sitting room, a chore she had completed just yesterday.

She stood high enough on the stairs so she could not be seen from the sitting room. As the song went along, she found herself leaning down the railing to catch a glimpse of him at the piano, not realizing how precariously she was perched.

“Charlotte!”

She startled, lost her grip on the railing, and almost fell down the stairs.

Mary regarded her with a mild curiosity and concern, but Charlotte prayed she had not seen her lurking. Just losing her balance. Well, she hoped.

“Yes, Mrs. Parker,” mustering her most composed smile once she had found her footing again.

“Our governess, Miss Sara, is taking the weekend off to care for her sister, who is quite ill. Would you be willing to mind the children tomorrow night? We are likely attending a concert and would add to your wages, of course. Oh, and I took the liberty of asking Mrs. Van White and she said it will not be a problem.”

Pleasantly surprised by the request, Charlotte replied without hesitation, “Yes, thank you, ma’am. I would like that very much.”

“Excellent. I will fetch you at some point tomorrow to go over their routines and let you spend a few minutes with them before we leave. James does get fussy sometimes but if you have any trouble, I am sure Mrs. Van White will not mind if you consult with her.”

__________

By the end of the day, Sidney received a letter from Sir George.

> My dear Sidney,
> 
> Wonderful to hear from you! I am most pleased to be available to host you and your family tomorrow evening at the concert. Enclosed are six tickets for the third row.
> 
> At intermission, I would be delighted if you would join me with your family in the Prince’s Room, formerly known as the Queen’s Tea Room, for refreshments. Your parents were dear friends, and it would be my sincere pleasure to reacquaint myself with your siblings and meet your ward, Miss Lambe. The head usher shall have the information for your party and provide an escort to the room.
> 
> I close with a caution, hopefully not presumptuously. As a musician, it can be tempting to rue lost years or avenues on occasions such as this. You had a difficult path after the loss of your parents. Antigua was both a respite and a wilderness for you, as we discussed in so many words at our last acquaintance. Neither of your parents expected you to become a professional musician, and I do not believe that to have been your aspiration either. My hope is that you enjoy the concert without regrets for the journey your life has taken and know that music is a gift always ready to impart beauty and humanity to anyone who engages with it.
> 
> Yours faithfully,  
>  Sir G. T. Smart

Sidney was grateful for his teacher’s words. _Yes, Sir George is the best kind of man. It will be good to see him again._

__________

After the rest of the house had retired to their rooms for the evening, Sidney poured himself a glass of port, drank it and then wandered over to the piano.

Sidney just sat on the bench for a long time. Occasionally, he ran his fingertips across the tops of the keys without making a noise and then he would take a deep inhale and a deeper exhale.

It was true what Sir George had said. He had feared that his mother and father were secretly hoping he would take a path toward being a concert pianist, despite their reassurance that music was a worthy pursuit for its own sake. He had lobbied to take a break from instruction and chose to attend St. John’s College, Oxford, dropping all of his music instruction when his parents sailed for Spain. After their deaths, he had not resumed and chose to complete only his university studies. The words from Sir George put to rest doubts he had held for some time, and a certain amount of guilt.

Eventually, he rose and went to his study to leaf through some sheet music. _Ah. Beethoven’s Pathétique. The second movement, the Adagio cantabile. A piece suitable for my rusty fingers and perfectly compatible with the day._

YouTube [Yundi plays Beethoven's Pathétique, Sonata No. 8 in C Minor, II. Adagio cantabile](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=BuN3yCmHb_U)

OR

Apple Music [Yundi plays Beethoven's Pathétique, Sonata No. 8 in C Minor, II. Adagio cantabile](https://music.apple.com/us/album/piano-sonata-no-8-in-c-minor-op-13-path%C3%A9tique-ii-adagio/1452514266?i=1452514674)

__________

As Charlotte ascended the stairs toward her room, finally finished after a long day, she heard the pianoforte for the second time. The first soft notes immediately grabbed at her heart. They led to a gentle and steady, somber and reaching melody. 

She stopped on the landing, pushed the door open a crack and leaned into the wall. Her breathing slowed as she absorbed each measure. She had never heard an instrument played with such feeling. Each key stroke was drawing out sadness, longing, and grief, and turning them into something beautiful. When it stopped, she put her hands to her cheeks and felt that they were wet. She had not cried real tears in forever, and it felt so very, very good.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I may never have this many Notes again 😣😄.
> 
> The PICKLE STORY is a real fable, told for centuries with connections to French, German, and Spanish traditions. The legend of St. Nicholas and the Three Pickled Boys was popularized in this century by the composer Benjamin Britten in his well-known cantata "St. Nicolas" (op. 42). The witty choral work, with poetry by Eric Crozier, tells the life of the saint in song; three choirboys sing the part of the Pickled Boys, always an audience favorite. For several years at Christmastime, Godiva Chocolate produced a large, solid chocolate St. Nicholas figure which had at his feet three boys and a pickle barrel.
> 
> https://www.beliefnet.com/faiths/christianity/orthodox/2000/12/saints-unpreserve-us-st-nicholas-resurrects-pickled-boys.aspx  
> https://www.whychristmas.com/customs/christmaspickle.shtml  
> And many other Google-able sites.
> 
> MUSIC  
> We learned in the last chapter that Sidney was a pianist as a young man. I am NOT a classical music expert so hopefully I won't have too many mistakes with terms et al. My dad played classical piano, mostly the brooding Romantics. Unfortunately, this is a Regency fic so Sidney only plays pre-1818 music, i.e. pre-Chopin, Liszt, etc.
> 
> However, if you like 'Classical Music Sidney' and/or if you'd like a broader playlist or just because it's awesome, check out Love in a Minor Key by CordeliaJane70 and dejong679, a Modern AU story with Sidney as a conductor/pianist. SO GOOD! I’m just a little jealous that modern Sidney gets to play Rachmaninoff. How very sexy and Sidney is that? https://archiveofourown.org/works/28819083/chapters/70682331
> 
>   
> For now, I’ll post music via YouTube links for accessibility or do a quick search on your favorite music app. If Sidney plays more, maybe a playlist will be added later. LMK what you think.
> 
> Piano Scene Two w/Charlotte on the Stairs:  
> The mood of the 2nd movement is perfect for this day. Sidney will need some practice before he's playing the 1st and 3rd movements again 😉.  
> If you would like an entire recording of the Sonata with all three movements...  
> Anastasia Huppmann plays Beethoven Piano Sonata No 8 in C minor Op 13 Pathetique  
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=XuldgIR02dY
> 
> SIDNEY  
> Sidney's "Great Coat" is the big outerwear coat he wears on Sanditon, with the deep layers of caping at the shoulders.  
> And yes, Sidney breaks his fast with coffee. Tea is for the sitting room ;-).


	6. Of Ideas and Introductions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> OLD BUSINESS:
> 
> If you revisit previous chapters, you may notice edits and additions, including corrections to few names missteps.
> 
> ✨Ch 4: Pics of the Regency Urns have been added within the text.
> 
> ✨Ch 5: A Spotify Playlist Has Been Added: Bubble&Peak The Unmaking / 5  
> https://open.spotify.com/playlist/7aBq7YHJ3d1qQWBmxko2AX  
> The first song “The Unmaking” is a modern one from the Notes section. Just skip it if you want to head straight to the classical music. 
> 
> The middle pieces are those from which Sidney played selections for the children. 
> 
> The final song is from the evening: Beethoven’s Sonata No. 8, Op. 13 ”Pathétique”: 2. Adagio Cantabile. Put it on repeat and go stand on the back stairway with Charlotte and swoon.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> NEW BUSINESS: CHAPTER 6! Sir George sent Sidney splendid tickets to the Messiah concert! That means we can sort out playlists if you so desire.
> 
> MUSIC/PLAYLISTS
> 
> A COMPLETE "Messiah" album  
> Messiah by Freiburger Barockorchester, René Jacobs & The Choir of Clare College, Cambridge  
> SPOTIFY https://open.spotify.com/album/3zkSkB9igJcUCEUwFMpfZh?si=eq2Djej0TfK5O1dKMzrGAQ  
> APPLE https://music.apple.com/us/album/messiah-hwv-56-part-i-1-sinfony/206746983?i=206746989
> 
> **OR**
> 
> Playlist of "Messiah" Greatest Hits: Cuts the length in half. Heavy on first movements and partial to choral pieces + the familiar. Also, soloists whose work I most loved. Please let me know if I’ve missed your favorite movement, however!
> 
> SPOTIFY Bubble&Peak, Ideas and Intros / 6 / Messiah Greatest Hits  
> https://open.spotify.com/playlist/2w47IHQcKSx53s0ivnVSHF  
> APPLE Playlist: https://music.apple.com/us/playlist/messiah-greatest-hits/pl.u-WabZlM7I6pkmD
> 
> Notable Tracks:  
> Unto Us a Child is Born, Part 1, Movement 12.  
> The Hallelujah Chorus, at the end of Part 2, Sc. 6
> 
> The Lyrics or Libretto: http://opera.stanford.edu/iu/libretti/messiah.htm (the numbers of the movements are off midway through, but only by one so just scan)
> 
>   
> ON HANDEL'S "MESSIAH"
> 
> This chapter contains references to Christianity within the context of attending Handel’s "Messiah" with Sidney. As it is considered a meditative piece, as opposed to something like an opera with a strong narrative line, I included some of his reflections on the lyrics of the work that tie back to his thoughts earlier in the week. 
> 
> ✨Libretto: the text or lyrics of an opera or other long vocal work
> 
> ✨Oratorio: a large-scale musical work for orchestra and voices, typically a narrative on a religious theme, performed without the use of costumes, scenery, or action
> 
> In addition to the excellent breakdown of the work in Wikipedia into its three part, I thoroughly enjoyed this blog, which was a good synopsis of its history: http://www.musicacademyonline.com/programs/messiah_02.php
> 
> A quote from the blog: Although Handel was quite religious, “...the promulgation of religious dogma was evidently not his aim in composing Messiah. Rather, he saw beyond the surface of the texts which Jennens selected to the human experience conveyed in them. The texts create a framework of topically related events which Handel’s music clothes in an aural analogy of peace, hope, joy, confusion, confidence, suffering, and triumph.” 
> 
> And so I hope there is something for everyone here 💛.
> 
> GENERAL STUFF  
> ✨ WARNING: there's a brief mention of tragedy that struck some of Charlotte's younger siblings, though not in any detail. It's a part of the plot that I don't love, not because death isn't a part of life and many great stories, but because one of my favorite things in the show is the family and the farm. Alas, this is not that story.
> 
> FINALLY...Several characters from the show make their appearances for the first time in this chapter. Love ‘em. Hate ‘em. We need at least a little dramatic tension for our story if it’s going to last, right?

**Saturday**

**5 December 1818**

The last four days in the Parker household had given Charlotte much needed peace.

Bedford Place was certainly a beautiful home in which to work--elegant but not imposing in any way. Gaining her footing in her duties and slipping into the rhythm of the household routines allowed her to relax into its warmth and tranquility. She took pride in knowing she had earned a measure of trust from Mrs. Van White and Mr. Jenkins in the few days she had worked for them. Being greeted once again this morning by the flower arrangements she had created was profoundly gratifying, and the knowledge that the Parkers were enjoying them as well sent a little tingle shooting through her.

All these things were a balm to her spirits. Although she masked it with her stalwart disposition and sanguine outlook, her spirits had been worn to the bone by many months, really years, of hardship.

It was difficult remembering that she would likely leave her employment with the Parkers in the next few weeks, but she had tried not to put it so far from her thoughts that she was unprepared for it. She felt sure that whatever happened, the time in this household was the best place from which to carry on.

That was the big picture of her life. The smaller one was that the novelty of cleaning most of the day, every day was wearing thin. At first, once she had understood her tasks, the newness of them almost made housekeeping feel like a pastime or entertainment. But housework was still housework.

She had to remind herself that the only standard that mattered was Mrs. Van White’s. At home, she did her chores as quickly as possible to move on to other things; here, while efficiency was prized, meticulousness mattered.

So, she found herself stretching under the bed with the mop much further than she would have in her own home, at least on a weekly basis, and dusting items that often appeared as though they had been kept under glass. Paradoxically, various distractions helped her stay focused, like humming a tune or thinking about Mrs. Waters’ butter cakes or a favorite memory. Usually, she tried not to keep the end of her tasks too close it sight, for if she did, she would rush.

However, this morning she had saved one room’s dusting and mopping for last—partly to savor the way it made her pleasantly lightheaded, but also because the prospect of crossing paths with Mr. Sidney tortured her nerves.

Until yesterday afternoon, she felt she had kept their meetings on a proper level conversationally, although their encounters had been lengthy and daily. Asking him the personal question about his favorite decoration yesterday had crossed the line. She knew that. But, she argued with herself that he seemed to wish to engage with her and it was so unnatural not to be conversational. She could see his face in her mind: “I see you are putting out the Christmas decorations.” She tried another response. ”Yes, sir.” _...but that would have been curt, terse, impolite, would it not? Well, stilted at the least._

She also had to admit that her thoughts about him were hardly impersonal. Each day more questions swirled in her head that could engage him in conversation--even if she feared she would be tongue-tied in the moment. She wished to ask him more about his parents, especially his mother whose potting shed and stillroom were places of her dreams. She wondered what had taken him to Antigua—was it just business? Had he traveled elsewhere? Which philosophers’ ideas most resonated with him, grated him, puzzled him? And what of the other books in his room?

She planned to dust the bookshelves more methodically today for she had not had the opportunity to look at the book collection since the brief glance she had taken on her tour with Mrs. Parker her first evening.

She did wonder why he wasn’t married. By remaining unmarried, he had assumed a role generally not thought of very highly in society. Not as bad as being a spinster, the confirmed bachelor was still viewed as incomplete, someone avoiding the duties of a fully realized man. There was even a bachelor tax for they were thought to more of a drain on society. But mostly, she just wondered why such an attractive man had chosen to remain alone, especially when he so obviously enjoyed his time with his nieces and nephews. Surely, he had had time to find a wife if he wished to marry.

 _Did his disposition even recommend him as a husband material?_ Of course, she did not mean for herself. Rather, theoretically.

He could seem as mercurial as his brother Mr. Tom, in a different way. In their brief acquaintance, he had appeared somber, stern, withdrawn, and the voice of the angry Sidney from down the hall hung in her mind, but present also was the tender, kind, gentle and fun-loving one. She supposed that Antigua probably had offered few opportunities for courtship and maybe he had been hurt sometime in the past.

She shook her head. _Oh, Charlotte. Here you are preoccupied in your people-appraising, again. Sometimes it is truly excessive._

That she found him intriguing was not the end of the world, but she knew would not do to risk her position or a good recommendation for crossing a line that could not lead anywhere but disappointment.

She entered Mr. Sidney’s room, the door well-ajar and the room silent. _Exhale. Let’s finish and be done for the morning. Maybe Mrs. Waters will have a leftover scone she’ll let me snitch._

She walked to the dressing table and began to remove the few objects from on top of it and place them in the windowsill so she could dust properly: a beautiful cigar box of holly and olive wood for personal effects, a silver brush, and a bottle of sandalwood oil. 

She paused. Folded in the corner of the table was the lace fichu she had seen in the potting shed, as well as the key. She had an inkling what it meant that he had brought it in the house. She, too, had lost her parents and she was sure this must have belonged to his mother.

She made a quick mental note to tell Mr. Jenkins that Mr. Sidney had the key, for he would likely be starting to miss it, and then lifted her head as the door swung open further on its hinges and Thomas entered.

_A flutter of disappointment mixed with relief._

With a bath basin in his arms.

_Oh. Time for me to leave._

“Good morning, Charlotte,” said Thomas.

“Good morning, Thomas. I was just leaving.”

“No rush if you aren’t finished. I need to bring up the water and Mr. Parker won’t be back from Gentleman Jackson’s for a little while.”

“Oh....alright,” said Charlotte, looking puzzled about his reference.

“When Mr. Parker is in town, he often goes to the boxing club on Bond Street on Saturday mornings. You know what they say--a gentleman has to be ‘good with his fists.’ “

_Ah. The living, flesh-and-blood Michelangelo sculpture...he boxes. Well then. One riddle solved._

She recalled how four days ago he had stood there in all his bold and fine musculature. Obviously, he was not a man working solely at a desk or idling at the Club. She tried to suppress a sideways grin. The sport seemed to suit him. His focus and intensity, the guarded expression she had seen in his eyes. Not to mention his physicality.

Thomas continued, as he laid out fresh towels and a rug on the floor, “From what I’ve heard, Mr. Parker has the edge on most of them.”

“You mean, he actually fights other men?” This was a bit shocking to Charlotte.

“Most of the time the pugilists practice just for sport, for exercise, but matches are fought, illegally, if you’re so inclined.”

Fighting matches seemed risky and brutish and hardly becoming of a gentleman. However, she knew of roughhousing from Matthew and even her father, and imagined that for a grown man, they might miss such exertions, especially if one’s labor was sedentary. She recalled that Plato had been a wrestler, earning his name from his wrestling coach for being broad, like a plateau.

Charlotte also considered that, since moving from the farm, she missed the many physical activities--swimming, hunting, climbing trees and running through the meadows whenever she felt like it. City life was very different. Maybe boxing was about proving oneself, man versus man instead of man versus nature, and feeling something wild and visceral.

Thomas left to fetch the water and Charlotte made her way over to the bookcase. She slowly ran her rag along the shelves, reading the titles as she went, becoming quite absorbed. Yes, a number of philosophers, mostly Greek, the copy of Heraclitus she had in her possession from her father’s library, poets – Wordsworth, Byron, Marlow, and Raleigh, older books on landscape architecture and gardening, including a French to English volume with an intriguing name, “The Retir'd Gard'ner, in Two Volumes: the Whole Revis'd, with Several Alterations and Additions, Which Render It Proper for Our English Culture.” Hmm. She shuffled and restacked a few pamphlets, one _The Slave Trade Act of 1807_ and a published letter by William Wilberforce, _A Letter on the Abolition of the Slave Trade, 1806_.

She did not feel Mr. Sidney’s presence as he paused at the doorway.

He cleared his throat. “Good morning.”

Charlotte startled and almost hit her head on the bookshelf above her.

“Pardon me, Mr. Parker. Thomas said he wasn’t expecting you back just yet.” She glanced at Mr. Parker and began to place the items back on the dressing table, preparing to leave.

“It’s quite alright. I am sorry to have startled you. Please carry on. I am going to slip down to the kitchen first. I missed breakfast and Mrs. Waters usually keeps something for me."

Then he remembered why he had come upstairs. He walked past her to take the key from the windowsill. “I’ll see to it that the shed key is returned to Jenkins.”

“Thank you, Mr. Parker.”

As he left, she exhaled. _Whew. Nothing too un-servant-like in that exchange._ Charlotte quickly mopped the room and added a new item to her list of labors: disregard thoughts of one flushed, cravat-less, curly-haired Mr. Sidney leaning attractively in the doorway, as well as any ponderings of his forthcoming morning activities.

_____________

Mrs. Waters had indeed kept something back for him and Jenkins appeared in the hallway as he was heading back upstairs with his tray. It always ruffled Mrs. Waters’ feathers a bit when he appeared in the servants’ area, but after seven years in Antigua, he was more concerned with living his life than fussing about where he was not supposed to be in his own house. And he figured it kept the staff on their toes if he made an appearance once in a while. Especially with Edward afoot.

“Jenkins!” he called as he spotted him in the back hallway.

“Sir,” he turned.

Sidney took a few steps and placed the key in his hand. “I visited the potting shed yesterday and ran into Charlotte. She gave me the key.”

“Is everything alright, sir?” he inquired, as it would be unusual for Mr. Parker to visit the shed, especially in December.

Sidney looked at the floor in front of him, smiled, and nodded. “Yes, Jenkins. Just fine.”

“Very good, sir.”

“Oh, and Jenkins, would you visit me in the study this afternoon? I have a few matters I’d like to discuss with you.”

“Of course, sir.”

Sidney nodded.

Jenkins mused that Mr. Sidney had seemed different the last few days. He had served the family for over sixteen years, so he had seen what happened to him after his parents’ deaths and the broken engagement. Since Sidney had returned from Antigua, he was improved from when he left, but far from the same sunny, bright, and thoughtful youth he had been. But these last few days, he appeared lighter, lighter than he’d seen him since. His smile sat closer to his lips and his eyes were brighter. Jenkins smiled thoughtfully. Maybe Mr. Sidney would yet regain some of what he had lost so many years ago.

___________

After lunch, Charlotte met with Mrs. Parker in the nursery to greet the children and receive instructions for the evening. It was exceedingly pleasant, but as she departed the nursery, she felt a sharp ache hit her gut. The eldest Parker children were just a little younger than her three youngest siblings had been with they had passed, and their deaths were, at times, still difficult to accept. She often cloaked her grief in the solace of knowing Matthew and Alison were still of this world.

She thought she must take time to write to them tomorrow. She had posted one letter to Alison since taking the position with the Parkers, but perhaps it would be good to send Matthew one as well. He had enlisted in the Navy, but she could still write to him, care of his ship’s name at naval headquarters and it would eventually reach him.

She took a deep breath and began to think of some games she could play this evening with the children that would suit each of them in their various ages. They had a lovely nursery with many toys, but it was always good to come prepared with something novelle and distracting when making new, young acquaintances.

__________

Mrs. Parker had asked her to gather the children from the dining room after Mr. Tom's early birthday supper, so Charlotte made her way there, unsure of exactly what time they would be finished. Normally the children ate separately from the adults, but since it was their father’s birthday, they had joined them with the main event being dessert and a few presents.

She tentatively ducked around the archway to the dining room; Mrs. Parker saw her and motioned for her to sit in one of the side chairs. They appeared to have just finished dessert, which Charlotte knew to be custard, cream and jam trifle with a splash of almond liqueur. Mrs. Waters had given her a taste of the custard, as she was out of scones by the time Charlotte returned to the kitchen after her morning chores. She had a feeling Mr. Sidney might have eaten the last one when he tucked downstairs before her.

The children were begging their father to open his presents and it was lovely to see them all enjoying each other. Mr. Tom exclaimed his praise when he opened the first present that was from Alicia--a small box she had covered in a pattern of shells from the beach at Sanditon. The next was from Jenny. With her mother’s help, she had chosen one of her father’s small sketches for one of the first buildings he commissioned for Sanditon. It was nestled in an apothecary bottle with sand and some pebbles from the shore. Lastly, Henry had placed his favorite toy soldier and his prized shortbread biscuits from his snack in a little muslin bag and told his father he was happy to supply tasty rations and his bravest soldier for his work.

After much oohing and aahing over the gifts, Mrs. Parker whispered something to the children that made all three clamber off their chairs, hug their father and then go to Charlotte.

Mr. Sidney was holding Baby James, leaning in to him and talking softly every now and then. When he looked over and saw that the other children were leaving with Charlotte, they caught each other’s eyes, exchanged small smiles and he walked over to her with James. Someone with superpowers of observation would have noticed that both of them held their breath for a moment as they neared the other. As had happened before, their guts would twist and flip being in such close proximity to the other, only for the knot to slowly unwind as they parted.

At first, James was reluctant to go so he grabbed tighter to Sidney’s neck, but Charlotte had come prepared and reached up to hand him his favorite teddy. He quickly soothed. Sidney smiled admiringly at Charlotte and she was relieved for it could have been a scene. Sidney’s gaze followed her as she walked to Henry and bent with James in her arms to take the bigger boy’s hand and lead them toward the stairs. Her tenderness with them was impossible not to notice, a natural thing, he told himself, but then he forced himself to push his thoughts towards the concert and the evening ahead. Hopefully, it would be an enjoyable evening for everyone.

___________

Once they were in the upstairs, Charlotte sat down on the rug and took in the sweet smells and cherubic faces of the young Parker children. They were angelic--until the moment when they all began talking at once, both girls talking louder and louder over each other to try to keep Charlotte’s attention, with Henry trying unsuccessfully to get a word in. Winning them over was not going to be an issue. Keeping them from squabbling would be harder.

Each child was petitioning her to play with a different toy—the theatre, the blocks, the dolls--so Charlotte smiled and closed her eyes, raised her hands and then very slowly lowered them until all the pairs of eyes were on her and their voices had quieted. Then she began whispering questions to each of them, one at a time to keep them focused. The whispering encouraged them to listen to her and the answers of each other, and to use their quiet voices when they spoke.

In short order, all of them were having a delightful conversation and within a few minutes, Charlotte had worked out a bit more about each of them.

Alicia, the eldest, was very fond of horses, splashing in waves at the beach, and took three lumps of sugar in her tea. She was also keenly aware of the feelings of her younger siblings. She did not always care to mind those feelings but knew them, nevertheless.

Jenny “I’m 5 and a half” cute years old, liked bears, all yellow flowers, and Mrs. Waters’ rosewater tea cakes. She also liked to show she was her own person. She did not like Alicia interfering or Henry trying to boss up the line. But she was sweet on baby James.

Henry was partial to ships, lemon candies, and using a big voice whenever possible.

Baby James. He was easy. So far. Content to toddle around the room and suck on his fingers. A bit concerned-looking for eighteen months, with a cute little furrow in his brow, but placid and accommodating. Very much Mary’s temperament. And he appeared to like Jenny, too.

When they had worn out the get-to-know-you questions, she asked, “What is a game that we can all play together?” hoping this open-ended question would not backfire.

“Fort!” Henry yelled. “Like with Uncle Siddy!”

Alicia leaned toward Charlotte and asked, “Do you know what Uncle Sidney likes?” After all their sharing about themselves, Alicia seemed keen to talk about Uncle Sidney now.

“No. What, Alicia?”

Henry, decisively: “Playing ships.”

Alicia said in her best patient-but-don’t-push-me sister voice: “Don’t interrupt, Henry.”

Turning to Charlotte with a theatrical flourish, she continued. “Riding his beautiful black stallion, ‘Flash.’ He is the most enormous, fastest black horse you have ever seen with a star on his forehead, right here,” she said, pointing to Charlotte’s forehead.

Henry, boastfully: “Uncle Siddy says I can ride him when I get big, like him.”

Jenny added her observations: “Uncle Sidney wears lots of black clothes, too.”

Henry, cheerfully: “Miss Charlotte, did you know Uncle Siddy once had a black eye, like a pirate?”

Charlotte, surprised: “Did he?”

Alicia, knowingly: “Yes. Father said he got it boxing, but Mummy shushed him.”

Henry, gravely: “He once came home without an arm.”

Charlotte suppressed a giggle and wondered what that meant. Maybe he had a sling?

Alicia, inquisitively: “Do you have a horse, Miss Charlotte?”

Charlotte, wistfully: “Not anymore.” There was a catch in her throat. “When I was a girl I lived on a farm and we had lots of horses. Duchy was my horse.”

Jenny, shyly: “What color was your horse?”

Charlotte, smilingly: “She was a piebald, black with large white spots.”

The children were obviously fascinated by their uncle. He was the only adult besides their governess who played with them so much and, as was evident in the sitting room the other day, he was fully immersed when he did.

Henry, returning to his favorite subject: “Did you go swimming at the farm? Uncle Siddy goes sea bathing.”

Charlotte, tentatively: “Sort of. If you count the river by the farm, but I have never been to the seaside.”

The children all looked at her wide-eyed.

Henry, earnestly: “You have to be strong to swim in the sea. Uncle Siddy says someday I’ll have big muscles, too. Like him.” And he made a serious face and clinched his arms out like a strong man.

Alicia, self-importantly: “Yesterday, he showed me how to play music on the pianoforte, like Beethoven.”

Not to be outdone, Jenny, trying to one-up her sister, leaned in closely to Charlotte and declared, primly: “Well, I once saw Uncle Sidney pick his nose.” And she put her little pointer finger in her nose for full effect.

Whether Jenny was making it up as five-year-olds are known to do was anyone's guess, but Charlotte had to stifled her laughter in a few coughs. When she had recovered, she tried to regain control of the conversation.

“Okay, children, maybe that’s enough talk about Uncle Sidney. He is not here to defend himself." 

For the rest of the evening, she did her best to wear them out so they would not rise too early and wake the Parkers after their late night.

__________

Every member of the Parker household was quite pleased to be attending the concert. Mary was relieved Tom had taken to the idea, although she could tell it had initially thrown him off his usual plan. However, the Hanover Square Rooms were the place to be seen on this night, and he seemed willing to be swayed by her, especially after she mentioned how much she had enjoyed attending concerts with him during their courtship.

Arthur was fairly certain that a few chums from school would be playing in the orchestra and Diana always appreciated a concert, having played violin and flute since she was quite small. The invitation to the Prince’s Room at intermission with promised refreshments only sweetened the prospect.

Georgiana preserved her cool demeanor when Sidney confirmed the concert with her, but in truth, she was elated. Since arriving in London with Sidney last year, she had attended a number of balls and other social functions but had yet to attend a concert. Snippets of chamber music, sonatas and church choral music had found her ears in various places, but nothing on the scale of this performance.

She also loved the pageantry of London, even though she frequently ran into those who snubbed her for the color of her skin. But that was true no matter which social class she encountered, so if she was could partake in the exquisite dresses, beautiful venues, and the spectacle of the beau monde on occasion, she had resigned herself to ruffling a few feathers along the way and relishing it--or go down trying.

And so, the family made their way to the concert in their two carriages, ready to begin their Yuletide celebrations in fine fashion.

__________

Upon arrival at the Hanover Square Rooms, Sidney offered his arm to Georgiana, but he could not think of anything to say that he thought she would appreciate. However, as they entered the hall, her eyes widened, and she stopped walking to gaze at the three and half-story vaulted ceilings decorated with elaborate paintings and rows of chandeliers flickering their light across tall gilt mirrors framing the very large hall. He was given an easy opening and he took it.

“Pretty spectacular, isn’t it?” The look on her face left her no room to disagree. It was the premier concert venue in all of London and there was nothing quite like it.

This was also the primary fundraiser for the Royal Society of Musicians so anyone who considered themselves a patron of the arts was in attendance. It is simply a truism of most high society fundraisers that more is spent on costuming the guests than is raised for the charity, and the effect here was impossible to miss.

The attendees were a sight to behold. Modistes and tailors had been busy for weeks preparing sumptuous creations for their clientele. Parisian fashions were _de rigueur_ since the _Peace of Paris_ accord was signed in 1814. For the ladies, every season the sleeve was puffier, and waists were higher than ever. The skirts were increasingly angled and shortened toward the ankle. Heaven help the woman who appeared in a train in 1818! A dizzying array of lace, fabrics, and beading, floated through the room, and if you looked closely, a perceptive eye could spy real gemstones in astonishing numbers on the occasional gown.

Nonetheless, it was an important evening for the Society; the money raised was indispensable to their goals. By wooing the beau monde in such a way, the professional musicians gained a measure of financial security, bolstered the connection with the patron community, and afforded the musicians a higher standing relative to many of their original stations, rooted in this acknowledgement of the value they provided as artists.

Georgiana was undeniably impressed and, as they sat down, she looked at Sidney and smiled with appreciation. He did not need her to say anything. He was just very grateful that Mary had thought of the idea and that Sir George had been able to get him tickets.

Guests were beginning to find their seats in earnest as the air buzzed with the expectancy that the strings of the orchestra would begin their warm-up any moment.

Tom was still at the end of the aisle, chatting with a few women who looked to be wealthy widows. Mary decided it was a good moment to catch Sidney’s ear about her other idea.

“Sidney, I’ve been thinking.”

“Yes, Mary.”

“I know Tom is usually the one with ideas for Sanditon, but I was thinking that maybe there is another way we could attract visitors to Sanditon in the spring, before we even get to the summer season. What would you think about a concert series over a weekend? Perhaps even incorporating a nature theme in some of the music?

We could ask Mr. Stringer to construct a temporary bandshell for little cost so we could use the meadows or the area down by the river that are so pretty in spring time. London will be nothing but mud until early June at the earliest.”

“Mary, that is truly a very interesting idea. Tell me more.”

“I was thinking that if it rains, we still have the Assembly Rooms and I have to think Lady Denham would open Sanditon House for such an event. We could even host some smaller ensembles with refreshments at Trafalgar House.”

“You are outdoing yourself this week with your ideas, Mary. Perhaps I could talk with Sir George about it.”

“Do you think so, Sidney?”

“I do. It’s at least worth exploring.”

Mary was very happy for having thought of something that might help Sanditon. Tom had obviously been under quite a burden lately. She was pleased to have possibly contributed something that might ease it.

But as she gazed at Tom talking to the women at the end, she could tell they were getting irritated by his presence and wished to just be left alone. A look of consternation sank into her face, as she contemplated how his obsession obscured his ability to see others and their wishes, emotions, feelings.

Her own focus was so acute, in turn, she was oblivious to the presence of an exceedingly elegant and beautiful woman who had taken her seat on the other side of Tom’s empty one.

The woman’s kind brown eyes rested on Mary’s face and her smile became rather a rather knowing one as she leaned in and offered, “Good evening. I beg your pardon but you appear vexed. Is everything alright?”

“Oh, pardon me. It’s only that I’m afraid my husband may be overexerting himself for a futile cause. I had hoped he might relax and enjoy himself on his birthday.”

“That sounds rather difficult to watch and would be distracting on a night intended for music and conviviality. I am Susan and you are...”

“Mary Parker, wife of Tom Parker.”

Mary was still too troubled to be aware that “Susan” had only provided her given name.

“And what is your husband’s futile cause, if I may ask?”

“His chief interest is the promotion of an up-and-coming seaside resort, Sanditon. It is still in development and he seeks investors and guests to see it as an alternative to Brighton.

“His vision is one of sea bathing and miscellaneous entertainments, but I think it may need rather more to recommend it. In fact, I was just telling by brother-in-law that perhaps a concert series in the spring might be just the thing...." Mary stopped herself and offered, "Here I have let my words run away from me.”

“Not at all. Your idea is actually very interesting.”

Sidney had just turned from speaking to Georgiana, so Mary pulled him in. “Sidney. I’d like you to meet Susan...”

“...Worcester,” she completed, with the most disarming smile.

Sidney and Mary both swallowed and worked hard not to exchange a look for this was surely the Prince Regent’s special friend and an influencer among the ton.

“My apologies, your ladyship. This is my brother-in-law, Mr. Sidney Parker.”

“So pleased to meet you. Perhaps you can tell me more about your idea at intermission,” she replied for the instruments had quieted and the conductor had just made his way on stage.

Tom sat down on her last word, none the wiser to the exchange which had just transpired. Sidney and Mary exchanged looks that spoke to the notable introduction that had just been made.

Sidney had attended performances of the English oratorio several times with his mother, so the opening melodic lines of the _Messiah_ were familiar. Although his heart tugged to think that they could be here together, and might have been for many years in the interim, he still felt that he was sharing something with her by being there.

The first soloist joined the instruments a few minutes into the first piece, a tenor singing of the comfort of the Lord and preparing the way through the wilderness. He had a fine voice and Sidney settled into the music. Piano sonatas and concertos had always been his first love in music, but the rich and varied texture of the instruments, soloists, and now the choir was irresistible. He dared a glance at Georgiana and her shoulders were tilted forward, her eyes riveted to the stage, already gripped by the music and spectacle. 

__________

The last bars of Part I of III concluded with a playful operatic coloratura proclaiming that “His yoke is easy and his burden is light,” and the audience was delighted. As soon as the conductor dropped his arms, applause rose.

Unfortunately, so did Tom. Something or someone had caught his eye and he did not wish to miss his opportunity. By the time he reached the end of the row, he was disturbing several patrons’ attempts to rise from their seats for intermission.

Sidney looked at Mary quizzically, though it really was hardly out of character for Tom. However, Mary was somewhat relieved Tom had gone for it meant she might get to talk with Susan alone for a few moments.

Sidney reminded her, “Well, we need to go see the usher about Sir George’s invitation to the Prince’s Rooms.”

Lady Susan had turned toward them already and overheard. “Oh, are you acquainted with George? Well met. I was going to make my way there shortly. Shall we go together?”

Now Mary looked around for Tom so he could accompany them, but he was not to be found. Worried then annoyed then resigned, “Yes, let’s go. Tom can find us later.”

Mary was used to Tom’s behavior, but it was actually rather upsetting that he had dashed off without a word to her. She had arranged the evening and he was too preoccupied for basic courtesy.

__________

The Prince’s Room was a respite from the noise of the large hall. The exquisitely furnished room contained an array of fine art and furniture as one might imagine would grace a palace. Servants walked the room with silver trays, offering various refreshments, cakes, and confections to the several dozen guests, while dignitaries, like Sir George, hosted their special guests.

Diana caught her breath and Arthur smirked as Georgiana selected a small frosted, domed cake from one of the trays. It looked, well, like something that belonged inside a bodice, rather than on a platter. “Capezzoli de Venere” the servant pronounced, somehow without a smirk.

For anyone who knew Italian pastries, they would know it as a Nipple of Venus. Those cheeky Italians. Arthur and Diana opted for a few petit fours and brandy and situated themselves on a chaise lounge while Georgiana lifted her eyes around the room to see who might be of interest to engage in conversation.

Sidney and Mary crossed the room with Lady Susan to join Sir George who was engaged in conversation across the room.

“Ah, Sidney. Susan! So please to see you both, and together!”

“And you must be...Mrs. Mary Parker.”

“I am.”

“Charmed.

“Is Tom Parker joining us this evening?”

Mary braved a smile. “Yes, I believe he’ll be joining us shortly.” Although her voice betrayed her doubt.

“Well, I’m so please you could join us this evening.”

“So, were you acquainted prior to this evening?” Sir George asked, looking to Lady Susan and Sidney.

Lady Susan offered, “No, in fact we met in the hall. Before the concert, Mary was telling me about an idea for a concert weekend in an up-and-coming seaside town.”

“Ah. Very good. Did you know that Lady Susan is one of the founding members of the Royal Society of Musicians? And she contributes much more than financial support," said Sir George. "Well, please, tell us more about this idea then."

Mary was a bit uncomfortable under the eyes of both Sir George and Lady Susan, but she knew she had Sidney’s support and this was her chance.

“Our family is involved in the development of a seaside town on the South Coast, Sanditon, and I thought that perhaps a music festival in the springtime might be a good match--the culture of the city with the beauty of the coastline before London has comes into its own for the summer. We have beautiful Assembly Rooms as well as Sanditon House, and we could host some smaller private ensembles at Trafalgar House. If the weather is fine, we could perhaps do something outdoors in the meadows or along the river.”

“That is intriguing,” said Sir George. “As a matter of fact, Lady Susan and I were just discussing the pros and cons of a similar scheme for Brighton at our last meeting, but I must say, this has a freshness about it that I rather like.”

Susan followed-up. “Now that we know of George’s interest, I think we should meet to discuss it further."

“Discuss what?” At that moment, Tom had returned. With a certain lady on his arm that made Sidney draw a long, sharp breath. Eliza.

“What did I miss?” he reiterated.

“Mrs. Campion.” Sidney felt obliged to greet her. “Lady Susan Worcester and Sir George Smart, please allow me to introduced Mr. Tom Parker and Mrs. Eliza Campion.”

“Thank you, Sidney.” Eliza effused, as she walked a few paces closer to Sidney and looked up at him through her eye-lashes with a just-for-you smile.

Sir George retook the reins. “Mrs. Parker was just telling us about an idea to bring a music festival to Sanditon in the springtime.”

Tom looked at Mary with a mix of incredulity, amazement, and, oddly, almost betrayal, as if she had been keeping something from him.

But promotional Tom took over. “That sounds fabulous. Let’s make it happen.”

Lady Susan countered, “We will need to look at the finer points so perhaps we could meet to discuss it further,” redirecting her gaze to Sidney and Mary.

Tom looked ready to pounce, but Mary was faster and closer to Lady Susan.

“If you are interested, I would be delighted to host you, sometime this week even. Would Tuesday work for your ladyship?

“Oh, please, Mary. You may call me Susan. Tuesday should be fine. Please send me a note tomorrow and I will have my secretary arrange the details.” There was something Susan liked about this woman and how she was taking things into her own hands when she obviously had her hands full.

Eliza saw an opening were there was nothing but a hairline crack. But she was determined to wedge herself into the new alliance, so she made a proposal. “You know, I would love to offer my support to this event if you would consider another patron. I could, perhaps, offer a sponsorship.”

It was Tom who took the bait.

“Then of course you must come to the meeting. Mary will see to it that you receive an invitation.” Sidney took another deep breath.

Sir George stepped in. “Well, that sounds like a good start. I will leave the details to you for now, Lady Susan. Sidney, I have just a few minutes left and have yet to meet your ward and the other Parkers. Are they here?”

Sidney excused himself and took Sir George to meet Arthur, Diana and Georgiana.

Eliza was left with Tom as her escort back to her seat, her eyes following Sidney with a hint of disappointment. 

Lady Susan and Mary walked over to the refreshment table for a quick drink.

“You are so kind to take an interest in my idea,” said Mary.

“Not at all. I think it could be a lovely opening to the season. In truth, the musicians would benefit from having another event to work.”

Mary looked over at Tom and Eliza with consternation as they had stopped at the edge of the room to greet someone.

“Mrs. Campion is an interesting woman,” said Lady Susan.

“You know her?”

“Yes. She is one of the wealthiest widows in England so our paths cross fairly frequently.” Her eyes drilled into the back of Eliza's head and then she turned back to Mary.

“Am I correct in noting a familiarity with your brother-in-law?”

“Yes, they were engaged years ago. ...She broke his heart.”

“Ah. I had heard there was someone before Mr. Campion. They were quite young, then.”

“Yes. And the siblings had only recently had lost their parents.”

“And now Mrs. Campion is a widow, perhaps a widow looking to recapture her youth with a still-eligible and strikingly handsome bachelor.”

“I dearly hope he is not still in love with her.”

“Well, if you don’t mind my saying, let’s hope ‘once bitten, twice shy’.”

“My sentiments exactly.”

__________

 _A lifetime had passed and not a week_ , thought Sidney. Her beautiful face was little changed, but neither had her demeanor. The way that she had moved toward him and looked at him in that same way she used to, as if he was the only man in the room, was disconcerting, disturbing even. She displayed no hesitancy, contrition or embarrassment. It was unsettling and confirmed the conclusions he had drawn about her over the last several days. He wished that she was different, that she had changed for the better, that her faults had been his imagination, but it was not so.

Instead, she had shrewdly inserted herself back into the Parker world with the aid of his brother. He suspected her purpose, but the thought made him cringe. If she wanted to support Sanditon, that would have to be between her and Tom. He resolved to do his best to keep his distance. _Is that naïve of me, to think that I am capable of doing that?_

Sidney wished to resettle himself into the second half of the performance, so he pulled himself from his thoughts and turned to look down the row. Diana, Arthur and Georgiana’s faces were all rapt with the sight in front of them, the music just beginning to build again, this time with a slow, sustained, mournful choral line in G minor, setting the stage for Part II, the agonizing scenes of Christ’s Passion.

__________

The deep sorrow and feeling of Part II of the work was particularly resonant for Sidney, especially as he had just run straight into his haunting past. His heart was not heavy per se, but his emotions were still at the surface.

When the scripture of the libretto in movement 24 proclaimed of Christ that “surely, He hath borne our griefs and carried our sorrows,” Sidney was uncertain of exactly what the scripture was promising, but the idea that there was an identification with human suffering in the divine was appealing. Handel’s music stirred in him the conviction that whatever the official doctrine was, it paled in comparison to the expression of it in musical form. Each movement painted a picture that was worth a thousand words or more of the Christ’s life.

Gradually the somber music gave way to a more hopeful sound with the resurrection movements and before long Part II ended with the most familiar piece from the work, the Hallelujah Chorus. At the sound of the first notes, those familiar with the work and the tradition stood to their feet, bringing everyone else with them in a matter of moments. In lore, the collective response was because the king had stood so many years ago at an early performance, but no one could verify its truth. For those who knew to anticipate it, their mirth was had in the knowing. For those who did not, the joy was in the surprise. Why it was done originally had ceased to matter. No one would think of challenging it.

...

Part III was the ultimate third act, the libretto weaving with the musical score to carry to new heights the themes of heaven and glory and rebirth. Aching and soulful and triumphant was the denouement. Choral voices, bass to soprano, rang through the hall, dancing in point and counterpoint, reaching and retreating, declaring and murmuring, with a final crescendo of amens that filled the hall with a magnificence undoubtedly beyond that of any earthly ruler. Sidney had missed the transcendence of great music.

The words settled on him poignantly, as the final lyrical lines spoke of redemption and glory not dependent on one’s own perfection. That promise resonated deeper than perhaps anything else in the evening. Sidney was a realist and knew that no man escaped life without some regret. He also knew that whatever his life was to be, it could not depend on his own flawlessness for he was a great deal less than perfect. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ON BOXING
> 
> Gentleman Jack was a real live fellow with a pugilist club on Bond Street. He was an admired gentleman and snappy dresser. Sounds like Sidney's kind of guy 😂. Sidney might have even run into Lord Byron, the poet, at the his club. Byron boxed with Jack every morning, reportedly in an effort to keep the pounds off.
> 
> https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/John_Jackson_(English_boxer)  
> 
> 
> ON SIR GEORGE THOMAS SMART
> 
> He was a Handelian, event organizer, and prominent London conductor. Not likely a piano instructor, but it’s not definitive 😉. He did teach organ and other instruments. If you watched the movie “The Greatest Showman” with Hugh Jackman et al, the soloist in the story, Jenny Lind, was one of his pupils.
> 
> https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/George_Thomas_Smart
> 
>   
> ON THE HANOVER SQUARE ROOMS 
> 
> http://lesleyannemcleod.blogspot.com/2011/10/hanover-square-rooms-place-for-concerts.html
> 
>   
> ON PASTRIES  
> Oh, and I hope you didn't mind that I couldn't resist throwing in an indecent pastry, the “Capezzoli de Venere”. Blame a twitter thread and, really, my first acquaintance with them in the movie "Amadeus."


	7. St. Nicholas Day 1818

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Whew. Metaphors of child birth are strong with this one. Finally, induced and birthed. I hope you find it sweet and cuddly. 😂
> 
> Barring a natural disaster or family emergency, we will get to our Tuesday meeting with Lady Susan by Valentine's Day ♥️. Not that we won't all be reading the awesome V-Day one-shots I hear are on the way 😉.
> 
> Thank you for all your support!! I love, love, love your comments and feel so lucky to be part of this group!
> 
> ✨ LC

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ✨Box pews were enclosed pews common in churches from the 16th to early 19th centuries. Wealthier families purchased them for privacy and sometimes warmth, as they had high sides which started on the floor that prevented drafts, although their design was far from standardized.
> 
> ✨This 1818 Anglican Sunday service is a hot mess. It was a transitional time for service practices. The Book of Common Prayer from 1662 was not much help and info on how musical selections were made and played in practice was sketchy. A little suspension of disbelief required.
> 
> ✨Spotify Playlist: https://open.spotify.com/playlist/6SF7e7LJLADhObQ04EppiR?si=JyHnbRSRT4-licycL47TTg
> 
> ✨If Regency C of E church music isn't your thing (I felt like I was at a royal wedding searching for the right pieces) I would go with the Bach Prelude and Fugue No. 1 and No. 6 and the second Dona Nobis Pacem (I stretched things with a modern arrangement but nice nonetheless).
> 
> ✨Spoiler alert: sorry, not sorry, they aren't making out yet.

**St. Nicholas Day**

**Sunday, 6 December 1818**

“Mornin’, luv.”

Mrs. Waters now greeted Charlotte with as much familiarity as any of the other staff, and she relished whatever time she could spend with her in the kitchen, whether for a moment as she passed through on her way to the servants' room or lending her a hand at the old wooden work table and possibly engaging in a bit of chit-chat.

“Good morning, Mrs. Waters. What smells so divine?”

The aromas from the kitchen had traveled into the far reaches of the house more than usual as Charlotte finished her early morning rounds of fireplace cleaning and lighting.

“An extra fine meal for the Parkers this morning, after church services. It is Saint Nicholas’ Day and the Second Sunday of Advent, after all.” If there was an excuse to pamper the Parkers with a celebratory meal, she usually took it. They could afford a few extras, and she loved breaking out of her routine dishes. Originally, it was job security, but that was many, many years ago now. “What does your nose smell? Sweet or savory?”

“Both?” Charlotte began peeling the potatoes in the bowl in front of her. She knew Mrs. Waters didn’t have extra help, which made it a true feast or famine of things to do, depending on whether the Parkers were in town. And they were, so she was exceptionally busy on even an average day these weeks.

“Well...we are on our way to having eight roasted guinea fowl with egg sauce, cassoulet, potato gratinee, pissaladière –- a Provençal caramelized onion tart with olives and anchovies and a favorite of Mr. Sidney’s, shirred eggs with the finest buttered toast, toasted almond brioche and tea cakes, and a Christmas pudding, of course.” Her strong hands continued to work a sweet-smelling, yeasty dough on a stone slab as spoke.

“Mrs. Waters! Were you up all night?”

The cook just gave her a half grin and a wink. She would never tell, but she had her tricks.

Charlotte noticed a book open on her counter. She had never seen her work from a recipe before; everything else she did was apparently from memory. Charlotte did not feel she had broken Mrs. Waters’ stride in working and she herself was done with the fireplaces, so she persisted in their conversation, “Which cookbook are you using?”

The cookbook was my mother’s – but this recipe for brioche is in my mother’s hand, really her mother’s mother’s recipe, passed down. It is one I have not used in a while, so I wanted to be sure before I doubled it.”

Charlotte saw the note now, slipped in center seam of the book, the handwriting very light, covered with a bit of dust and smear. Mrs. Waters noticed Charlotte’s smile slip and her look go a little wistful.

“Dear,” she said softly. “Do you think of your mother now?” For Mrs. Waters had spoken with Mrs. Van White and knew the story of how Charlotte, who had a finer edge to her dress, manners, and speech, had come to be with them.

Charlotte glanced up quickly with eyes starting to brim wet to see Mrs. Waters’ understanding ones looking back at her.

“Yes, ma’am.” Charlotte saw the cook lean in with her face tilted a bit, her eyes prompting, and hands that had paused to the task at hand, so she continued. “My mum had her recipes, too. I was thinking of the butter rum spice cake she would make this time of year.” She paused. “It was my favorite. I’m not the cook she was, but I made certain she recorded that one for me.”

“It sounds heavenly, dear." Mrs. Waters smiled knowingly. "So, will you be attending church this morning with Mrs. Van White and the other servants?”

“Oh, yes. She had mentioned it.”

“Good. I seldom go when so many Parkers are in town, and certainly not this morning, but you should go if you can. Get out of the house, and the preacher isn’t half bad.

“Hmm. You know. Would you enjoy making your mother’s cake tomorrow afternoon if Mrs. Van White gives her okay for your time? I will be out for a bit as it’s my afternoon off, but I can show you how to use the oven before I go, if you have questions.”

Charlotte was unsure, but then felt her heart swell at the thought of doing something connected to her past, to her mother. “Well, I suppose I could. Do you have rum that I could use in the cake?”

“Oh yes. I will ask Mr. Jenkins to bring it to the kitchen before tomorrow.”

“Thank you, Mrs. Waters. Now, what can I do when I finish the potatoes?”

__________

By mid-morning, all the Parkers and Miss Lambe were gathered in the front hall in their Sunday clothes, ready to walk to St. Mary Abbot’s. The young girls wore lavender-colored sashes with their floaty white dresses, Henry wore his green suit with a frilled collar, and Baby James wore his white gown. Their tailored coats went on top with mittens and scarves, too.

A quiet morning in the study tempted the part of Sidney who preferred to keep to himself, but he was resolved in his silent commitment to be better company to Georgiana, and he knew Mary would appreciate the extra hands for the children today with the governess still away. He was also floating on some of the out-and-about energy from the night before and hoped for more music this morning at church.

As soon as Henry and Jenny took his hands to walk with him, he smiled for he knew he had made the better choice. They were convivial in their chatter and several times mentioned the fun they had with “Miss Charlotte” last night playing “King George Says” and “What’s the Time Mr. Wolf.” Henry also mentioned “we told her all about you!” and he was not sure he wanted to inquire further.

After making their way through fellow parishioners in the vestibule, the Parkers stepped into their box pew on the left side of the center aisle, and Sidney glanced up upward where his eyes caught on Charlotte in the upper gallery. She was speaking to the other maid, and Mrs. Van White and Thomas were there as well. He was not exactly surprised--just caught off guard for he had not thought about her being there. He afforded himself a look and noticed her cheeks were rosier than usual from the walk, he presumed, and she looked happy.

As he took his seat, he wondered, _is she really so much everywhere, or am I just exceptionally aware of her presence wherever I go?_ Certainly, the children occasionally spoke of their governess and the servants who could be spared usually attended services so these things were not unusual. On the other hand, he had sought out further contact with her on occasion this week and had probably never spent so much time with a servant in as short a time, save Jenkins, as he had with her this last week.

___________

To a Londoner, it was just a parish church; but to Charlotte St. Mary Abbot’s of Kensington was the largest church she had ever been in, although she imagined the cathedrals of the country were on a completely different scale. The impressive brick tower at the west entrance appeared to be five or six stories tall and was topped with a clock-turret on which stood a weathervane-capped cupola containing the bells. The church windows were beautiful double gothic arches tucked within a larger arch, with a crisscross diamond leaded glass pattern, one row on the ground floor and another which ran the length of the upstairs galleries.

Mrs. Van White guided them up the stairs to the south gallery where Charlotte had a lofty view of the box pews below and the altar area. At the altar ends of the galleries, musicians and a small choir were seated on opposite sides. Charlotte hoped this portended well for the musical portion of the service.

A few minutes later, Charlotte noticed the entire Parker family walk down the center aisle to their box pew on the opposite side of the main floor. Bench seating ran along each side of the nearly square space, maybe eight feet by seven feet, so they spread out as they entered.

Charlotte tried not to stare but there was much for her curious mind to take in and she was in luck that she sat at the far end of her group from the altar so her observing went unnoticed.

With a glance or two she picked up on a coolness from Mary to Tom as they sat down with the Alicia and James. Diana and Arthur were talking in an animated hush with Georgiana and they sat in the seat facing the gallery Charlotte was seated in. Mr. Sidney had Jenny and Henry each by a hand, his top hat was held by a finger that he had kept back from Henry for the very purpose and his cane was under his arm. He motioned for the children to take their seats facing their other uncle and aunt.

Once he set aside his cane and hat on the bench, he appeared to be about to turn to sit as well when his eyes floated upward along the gallery windows right behind her. Charlotte panicked inside, fearing to meet his gaze, and turned as calmly as she could to engage Harriet in conversation. She was not sure he had seen her but she dared not look. Regardless, she was flushed from being almost caught out. Not for the first time this week, Charlotte was covering her tracks.

She chatted a few moments with Harriet until the priest came to stand behind the pulpit and the parishioners quieted. The small boys’ choir near the altar began the service with the Venite canticle and then the choir in the gallery sang Johann Sebastian Bach’s cantata “Christum wir sollen loben schon” with a tenor solo before Reverend Eldon began readings for the second Sunday of Advent.

When Charlotte dared to look back at Mr. Sidney, he was seated facing away from her and she noticed the little curl of a cowlick in back, perhaps were his hat had lifted it. He really was such a handsome man, and the imperfection only heightened his appeal. She refocused herself on the hymnal.

Mrs. Van White had mentioned that the church was somewhat more progressive so there was more hymn singing, like the Methodists, even though not all of them were officially sanctioned by the Church of England. The parishioners sung “While Shepherds Watched Their Flocks." The choir sang the first verse of “My Shepherd Will Supply My Need” on their own, a newer hymn written by prolific hymn writer Isaac Watts, and then the rest of the parishioners joined in.

At some point James appeared at Sidney’s shoulder. First, he played with Sidney’s cravat for a few minutes and then began fingering his ear. While the choir sang “Dona Nobis Pacem” she suppressed a smile when Sidney turned his head and grimace while gently removing James' fingers from his ear with his own. She had noticed James’ little nails needed trimming last night. His ear had probably been caught on the torn edge of one.

Not all of the sermon was lost on Charlotte. The vicar focused his homily on the theme of compassion, as was fitting on St. Nicholas Day, recounting his good works done in anonymity.

The liturgy read:

> Blessed are you, Sovereign God of all,
> 
> to you be praise and glory for ever.  
>  In your tender compassion  
>  the dawn from on high is breaking upon us  
>  to dispel the lingering shadows of night.  
>  As we look for your coming among us this day,  
>  open our eyes to behold your presence  
>  and strengthen our hands to do your will,  
>  that the world may rejoice and give you praise.  
>  Blessed be God, Father, Son and Holy Spirit.
> 
> And everyone said: Blessed be God for ever.

The choir finished the service with Handel’s _Messiah_ , Movement no. 26, the one in which the sheep by way of musical lines flit and prance melodically, oblivious to their peril in the charming way that sheep are, until the end of the movement when the reminder of their need for the shepherd settles into the scene with sobering chords of censure in the last measures.

(If you are not using the Spotify playlist, here is YouTube)

[Messiah: Part the Second: No. 26 Chorus: All we like sheep have gone astry](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=g799LFGqiv8)

> Libretto: All we like sheep have gone astray; we have turned every one to his own way. And the Lord hath laid on Him the iniquity of us all. Isaiah 53:6

__________

As the Parkers were leaving the service, Sidney and Georgiana approached the vicar who was standing at the back door, greeting parishioners. Sidney almost bumped into a gentleman with his wife and three older children.

“Excuse me, sir,” said Sidney.

“Not at all. I beg your pardon.” He smiled at both of them and nodded warmly toward Georgiana.

Sidney knew Georgiana was quite aware of the figures in the anti-slavery campaigns, so he whispered to her, “Mr. William Wilberforce, MP, and his wife, Barbara.”

Georgiana turned and looked at him, surprised, but she said nothing, just regarded him for a moment.

He was not sure if she was taken aback by the man’s close proximity or that Sidney knew who such people were. She knew he had divested himself of investments tied to slave labor, but they had never really talked about it directly. _Maybe that’s another conversation we ought to have at some point,_ Sidney thought.

While on the path through the church grounds toward Kensington Church Street, he spied Charlotte and her group at the far end, not quite a block away. He was careful to avoid watching her too intently, but as they all walked toward Bedford Place, every block or so some scene in her world ensnared his full attention.

First, a sudden strong current of air caught the top of her bonnet and snapped it backward before the tie in the ribbon seized. It bobbled across her shoulders on the wind, and he felt himself tense, unable to look away until her hand caught it, for he was ready to snatch it from the wind if the ribbon released.

A few minutes later, her face suddenly turned in profile toward the southern sky, squinting into the sun that had appeared in a flash from a break in the gray scooting and rolling clouds. She checked her steps and returned her face toward the bright light for a moment and she smiled. The unexpected warmth, of the sun and her smile, edged the chilly breeze.

At one point, he looked back up to the group ahead, relieved to see that Thomas appeared to chat as much with Harriet as Charlotte. He found himself oddly conflicted, as his mind tried to register that Thomas was a fine young man and it was not as if he had any plans to pursue her.

Shortly thereafter, they crossed the place along the high street where he had caught up to her after she had fled Bedford Place on Tuesday. Her vulnerability at the fireplace in the quiet, early hours of Wednesday morning returned to him: “You must regret asking me to come back,” she’d said.

As if Mary had read his mind, she came up alongside him. “I am not sure I ever thanked you for bringing Charlotte back on Tuesday. She has been a wonderful addition.”

Sidney nodded thoughtfully.

“I really hope I don’t have to let her go. I had not planned to keep an extra maid on," Mary remarked.

Sidney felt his heart drop into his stomach.

“She is just temporary?” he asked as casually as he could. Mary nodded.

 _Temporary?_ He was reeling, gutted. But he was also struggling to make sense of how strongly his body reacted to Mary’s news. Over the last few days, he had permitted himself to admit that he enjoyed her company. She was very attractive, and obviously smart and talented, and he knew none of those things were at odds with being a maid. But it unnerved him to feel how much he wanted her to stay and what that implied.

Carefully, he said, “Yes, well she was quite skilled with the flower arrangements and I presume Mrs. Van White hasn’t had any complaints?”

“No. Well, I’ll give it a think.” Mary smiled and looked back at Sidney and then slipped back into step with Tom.

He thought of how Charlotte had looked on Tuesday morning on this very street. Her expressive brown eyes that flashed with indignance. Her momentary tears. He wondered what had brought them on. Something had been troubling her, but he knew nothing of her past, whether the week before or the year before. Then he thought of her smile and when they found common ground and reached an understanding. It physically hurt him to think of her leaving.

_Will she be alright? Does she have family?_

They were almost to Bedford Place when Henry suddenly broke free from Mary’s hand and went running up the sidewalk. Mary yelled “Henry!” with some panic, but within a half a moment, Henry yelled “Miss Charlotte!” He was making a bee line for her.

Sidney took a few long strides after him. “Henry....Henry!” In a few steps, he had caught up and swung Henry up into his arms “Not like that, Henry,” he gently admonished him.

Charlotte had turned, looking surprised at being alerted to the Parkers’ close presence, and smiled at Henry and then Sidney. Sidney somehow swung Henry high up onto his shoulders while avoiding his top hat without missing a step and Charlotte laughed sweetly at the sight. She turned to rejoin the others, but Henry called out:

“Help me, Miss Charlotte! I’ve been captured by the Pirate Blackjack Beardy Face! He’s taking me to the dragon! ”

Charlotte could not resist his cry so she waited and said when they were a bit closer, “Oh dear, Henry. Are you sure a Pirate? Maybe Mr. Parker is a Sea Captain ferrying you to a tropical island of sunshine and palms, chests of gold, and Mrs. Waters’ tea cakes for lunch!” She emphasized the latter for she knew it to be true.

“Mmm. Tea cakes! I’m SO hungry!”

“Well, I think you are having a special meal after church today, so you are in luck.”

“And it’s Saint Nicholas Day so we get presents!”

“Presents? Are you sure?” she teased.

“Yes!”

Charlotte felt herself begin to blush. They were now in step with each either and Sidney was looking at her with a wide grin.

Mary just saw the way that Charlotte interacted with Henry, though, and she said from behind, “Charlotte, Sara won’t return till tomorrow. Perhaps after supper you would like to spend a little time reading them stories, if Mrs. Van White doesn’t mind?

“Of course, Mrs. Parker.”

“Wonderful.”

With that, Charlotte nodded at the extra tall man, one Mr. Parker and Parker, to excuse herself and walked more briskly to catch up to her group.

__________

The Parkers enjoyed a sumptuous lunch, complete with Henry’s tea cakes. Afterward, they retired to the sitting room to loll as respectably as possible in the drawing room and recover from the indulgence until one of the children remembered that it was present time, which was not long.

This was about the time that Sidney finally let go of his certitude that Tom was going to bring up the subject of Eliza from the night before, but he had not said a word. Sidney could only figure that Mary had said something to him for usually Tom would have been quick to brag about bringing her in as a benefactor. He still imagined that Tom would be keen for him make his own reacquaintance with her, but he could not dwell on that. Since he had returned from Antigua, he had never discussed his relationship with Eliza with Mary, but perhaps she had her own quarrel with her for what had happened. _Tuesday’s meeting should prove interesting_ , he thought.

Before presents, as was tradition, Tom's animated voice carried a story of Saint Nicholas’ gift giving (NOT the pickle barrel story) through the drawing room. When it was finished, the children knew it was time to open their presents: candies, a toy for each, and an orange were in each of their bags.

Uncle Arthur and Aunt Diana had always enjoyed spoiling them on this day, so when they were done with their other gifts, Uncle Arthur emerged from the hallway grinning with another box and Diana joined him to bring it to the children. They squealed with delight when they opened it and saw that it was a set of puppets for their theater. The handcrafted figures included a knight, a shepherd and two sheep, a queen and king, a maiden, a frog, and a merchant.

After they spent some time engrossed in the merriment of spontaneous scenarios with their puppets in all sorts of make-believe voices, Alicia quietly arose, walked over to Uncle Sidney and whispered something in his ear. He bit his lip and looked at her teasingly, as if to say, “you’re sure?” and then he relented and went to sit at the pianoforte.

Alicia went to stand over the open lid where she could see the keys strike the strings once again. The other children soon noticed the shift in activity and Jenny ran over to try to see, too, on her tiptoes next to Alicia. Henry scooted onto the bench with his uncle.

Sidney remembered a few simple carols: "Here We Come a Wassailing," "The First Noel," and "Good Christian Men Rejoice," which the family sang together. He then managed a rendition of "Dona Nobis Pacem," quite different from the choral version at the morning service. 

He retrieved his sheet music for Bach’s _A Well-Tempered Clavier_. It was a collection of pieces that he had worked through during his study with Sir George and was probably what his rusty fingers needed. The first piece was lively with simple strains of distinctive movement and emotion and he thought the children would enjoy it. 

(If you are not using the Spotify playlist, here is YouTube)

[Lang Lang Plays J.S. Bach, Prelude and Fugue No. 1 in C Major, BWV 846](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=7ZNXBpO-uEo)

[Richter Plays J.S. Bach: Prelude and Fugue No. 6 in D minor, BWV 851](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=QNMYHy8B7KU)

Sure enough, their eyes lit up. As he began to play No. 1 in C major, Henry said, “It sounds like a waterfall, Uncle Siddy” said Henry. “Or raindrops on a flower,” added Jenny. 

At the beginning of No. 6 in D minor, Alicia said, "It sounds like a horse galloping."

When he finish and stood up from the bench, he could see the appreciation for his effort in his siblings' eyes and was taken aback. It was perhaps the most enjoyable afternoon they had all spent together since he had returned from Antigua. It felt good to play again. Very, very good.

Afterward, the children returned to the puppets and asked Uncle Arthur and Aunt Diana if they would come see their puppet show soon, and scampered up to their nursery.

Unknown to Sidney until that moment, for he had been occupied at the piano with the children, Georgiana had left after a few songs to take a respite outside.

__________

“Oh, Miss Lambe. I beg your pardon.”

After a brief turn about the rear garden, Charlotte had come upon Miss Lambe on a sheltered stone bench among the shrubbery. It was her afternoon off and she had asked Mrs. Van White if she might walk there. She was finally enjoying a turn through the beautiful space, something she had longed for ever since Mr. Jenkins had shown her the potting shed, when she saw her.

It took only a moment to register that Miss Lambe had been crying, her handkerchief in hand and her eyes red and watery.

Miss Lambe replied. “No. No, it’s fine. I was just finishing. I should go.”

“Of course not, take your time,” said Charlotte reassuringly.

“It’s not time I need. It’s a new life.” she said, as her shame for her tears gave way to her intense emotions that were spilling out.

“I’m sorry.” Charlotte lingered a moment, but felt she probably should give her privacy. However, Miss Lambe spoke again.

“Have you... have you ever felt like the only way your life could ever be right again is if you could change one moment in time? That nothing else after that point has ever been right?” A sob came out and tears dropped onto her cheeks at the end.

Charlotte smiled gently and nodded. In a soft voice, she said with quiet confidence, “Yes. Yes, I am quite certain I know what you mean.”

Miss Lambe looked up at her. “So how do you have the strength to go on?”

“Well, I don’t always feel like I do.”

As she considered her statement, Charlotte felt she had best continue on with a more complete picture for she did not want to leave Miss Lambe on that note.

“Only six weeks ago, my brother told me he thought he had best enlist with the Royal Navy, if he were ever going to have a proper start again. My sister found her own job and I made her take it. Suddenly, I was completely on my own and I was not sure I would make it. But now, I am here in this lovely home. At least for the next couple of weeks.”

Georgiana thought for a moment and realized that in some ways, she had it quite well, with her vast inheritance and at least some kind of family. But she still felt so alone.

“I am sorry. I should not be complaining to you. Whatever circumstances I may have are not yours. I must appear sulky and spoiled.”

“Not at all. Sometimes our hearts are more broken in a way that no material good can improve.”

Georgiana appreciated her generous and understanding words and continued. “Yes. My world hasn’t felt the same since I lost my father. I lost my home, too. And all that bloody singing reminds me of the few memories I have of my mother. And now here I am on this miserably chilly island, waiting to come of age so I can be free from my equally miserable guardian.”

“That sounds like quite a burden. I’m sure that must be very trying.” Charlotte could think of no other message to console her. Then she ventured, protocol or no, “Would you like me to sit here a bit with you?”

Miss Lambe nodded and Charlotte joined her where they sat in the afternoon sunshine--a bit cool, but both better for the company. 

___________

Sidney was not sure when or why Georgiana had left so he decided to check her room. She was not there, nor was she in the upstairs sitting room.

“Jenkins, have you seen Miss Lambe?” he asked as he entered the downstairs hallway.

“Yes, sir. She retrieved her pelisse about a half hour ago.” Jenkins answered, but hastened to add, “I believe she went to the back of the house, as if to go to the garden.”

Sidney was not sure whether to let her be, but he wanted to be certain nothing too concerning had happened, so he took a cigar outside with him, wishing to appear as casual as possible, and stepped out the French doors of the drawing room onto the terrace. He lit his cigar and looked around, somewhat anxious to verify her whereabouts.

Within moments he heard two female voices in conversation coming from the shrubbery area, but it was too sheltered to see. He walked across the flagstone patio as quietly as he could and soon made out what he thought were Georgiana and Charlotte’s voices.

 _Charlotte? Am I now imaging her voice in my head?_ He genuinely thought he might be going slightly mad with thoughts of her, but he decided to bide his time and finish his cigar to test his theory.

Just when he was beginning to wonder if he should stroll their direction, for he had not hear anything for some time, the now-familiar head of chestnut curls bobbed along the top of the shrubbery, the rest of her out of sight for the moment. He turned and strode over to the far side of the patio as fast as he could in a dignified way so as to appear that he was in his own world, completely unaware of her presence or Georgiana's.

Charlotte just about stopped in her tracks when she saw him, but as ever, she did not like to appear put off by anything or anyone, so she continued on, barely breaking stride, and greeted him as she approached the “miserable guardian.”

“Charlotte... Fine day.” he offered at the last. Oh. The internal eyeroll and chastisement: _Parker, you just can’t help yourself, can you?_

“Mr. Parker, sir. Fine indeed.” She paused briefly and thought about commenting on how the wind had died down or how fresh the air was after the breezes, but no. She was getting better at this. Just the minimum. A courteous reply. Proud of her progress, but dissatisfied at the abbreviated exchange, she made her way over to the servant’s entrance.

 _He looks so rakish smoking that cigar, but his smile, his eyes--there's something warm, gentle and quite reassuring about them_... _he's a conundrum, that's for sure,_ she thought as she added Georgiana's comment, as well, to her mental file on Mr. Sidney. Then, as she stepped through the doorway, she rolled her eyes at herself for musing about Mr. Parker yet again.

Now that Sidney knew Georgiana was safe, he thought not to disturb her peace, but he was curious what the two of them had been discussing and how Georgiana had come to talk with her. It did not seem in character for her to talk to a maid, but then, as he was realizing, Charlotte had an appeal that perhaps transcended his own specific sensibilities about her.

Sidney returned to the drawing room and his eyes immediately settled on one of the amaryllis flower arrangements. As he had a number of times that afternoon, he thought about Charlotte leaving Bedford Place and rubbed his chin with a determined thoughtfulness. 

_It will not do_ , he thought. _It will not do._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have catered a few Provençal-style picnics--so lovely. I'm not sure of the exact recipe that I used for the pissaladière, but I thought some of you would appreciate the source for this recipe 😉, if you care to explore further.
> 
> Pissaladière  
> http://outlanderkitchen.com/2016/05/09/pissaladiere-outlander-s2e6
> 
> The church I attended when I lived in London was not built until the mid-19th century so I went with St. Mary Abbot's  
> https://rbkclocalstudies.wordpress.com/2015/10/22/st-mary-abbotts-kensingtons-parish-church/
> 
> Survey of Area Around St. Mary Abbot’s  
> https://www.british-history.ac.uk/survey-london/vol37/pp25-41#anchorn83
> 
> I could fill this space with the history of hymns in church music, but suffice to say, unless you were Methodist/evangelical, hymns as we know them now did not make a great appearance until later in the 19th century. Not much Christmas music, as we now know it, either. Even if the lyrics had been written, the current score was usually, again, mid-19th century or later. 
> 
> https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Anglican_church_music  
> https://janeausten.co.uk/blogs/arts-and-entertainments/the-origins-of-regency-era-christmas-carols


	8. A Friend that Sticketh Closer than a Brother

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> An amuse-bouche, a little morsel of a chapter, before Lady Susan comes to visit. I hope it suits your taste.
> 
> Thankfully, Sidney hasn't heard of the tagline, "never let them see you sweat." You're welcome. 😉💛

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> SPOTIFY PLAYLIST Chapters 8 & 9:  
> https://open.spotify.com/playlist/3hVrE6FxnSgdntL4qxw96k?si=npetCzX_Swm_TVWglZ3PEQ
> 
> More music will be added as I write the next chapter. 
> 
> You will remember from Chapter 6 that Gentleman Jack ran a boxing club and was quite a celebrity in Regency London. At one point, the Prince Regent even asked him to provide a security detail for an event. 
> 
> A Banyan was a fancy men's robe. You've probably seen them in artwork without realizing what they were. There is a photo at the end of the chapter.

**Monday, 7 December 1818**

Sidney was awake at dawn, so he took a fresh shirt and breeches from his wardrobe, tucked them in his soft-sided satchel and headed out for the stroll across Kensington Gardens and Hyde Park to the pugilist club on Bond Street again.

He pounded the hitting bag for over an hour and sparred with Gentleman Jack himself for four rounds. By the time he finished, he was dripping wet--his breeches soaked and his shirt long gone.

He wiped the sweat from his face with his hand and reached for the towel, stretching his torso backward. He was spent and he loved it. Gentleman Jack came over and gave him an extra firm grip, smiled with his eyes and pronounced his approval, “You’re better, Parker.”

Sidney felt the change, too. The way his demeanor had calmed outside the ring was even more noticeable in it. His spirit was quieted and his energy refocused. Rather than feeling desperately energized, like he sought to punish something externally, his body moved lithely, every muscle in flow, guided by his head which was clearer than it had been in a very long time.

Boxing was now a physical and mental game not an emotional catharsis. And that made his performance even more impressive than usual.

He headed over to the baths, a true luxury only on the weekdays when it was markedly less crowded. The floors were dry, the room was almost quiet, and the temperature was perfectly warm to prevent the onset of a chill.

He stripped off his breeches and sunk into the tub with sweet relief. His body was weak with pleasurable exhaustion, nearly shaking with the aftereffects of his efforts. His chest felt strong and full as he took some deep breaths. His abdomen was taut, and his flanks were gratifyingly sore after the rotation of so many blows. His arse, legs, and arms were spent, too. Attempting to lift his arms was nearly an exercise in futility. His shoulders were so fatigued that he knew donning his shirt and tying his cravat would be major labors when he finished in the bath.

But by the time he left the club, he was only thinking about breaking his fast at Babington’s. Fortunately, Chilwell House was only a short walk away at the edge of Mayfair.

__________

Charlotte was checking all the flowers arrangements for water and health--a tray, a towel and a watering can in her arms to make the job easier. They did not need much care, but the paperwhites in particular could not dry out completely or they would be unrecoverable. A few of the ribbons around their stems needed adjusting as they grew, as well.

In this job, it felt like her value in the household was elevated once again to that of an indoor gardener, of sorts, who needed to use their expertise to render service. How she wished that an employment path like gardener or even horticulturist were available to her.

Mrs. Van White suggested that she take a few of the smaller arrangements from the smallest side tables upstairs to the bedrooms and place them on the mantles along with a few extra candles. It would be nice Yuletide touch-- a little Christmas cheer in each room.

__________

Aside from his hunger, Sidney arrived at Lord Babington’s home more relaxed than he had felt in a long time. He was pleased that he had arranged a separate time to meet up with him. The Club and Crowe were only good for so many meetings in a row.

Babington welcomed him with a back slap. “Looks like you have been sparring already this morning. I wish I had your torment sometimes, Parker. It keeps you fit. Though, is that a near smile I detect?”

Sidney sidestepped his comments and got to the point. “What you discern is me contemplating breaking my fast. Can you help a man with some sustenance?”

“You’re in luck. I was just sitting down. Barnes can get you a plate, two if you need it,” he ribbed. “I’m sure Mrs. Turro will have something.”

As they seated themselves at one end of a stunning dining table, Sidney poked his friend with the most obvious question.

“So how are you doing, Babs? Your time’s almost up. You’ll be a married man soon.”

“I am tortured. I have not seen my fiancée in over a week and I’m beginning to think she is a figment of my imagination. Well, save for the four lively letters I received last week,” and he patted his breast pocket with a coy look.

Sidney smirked appreciatively. He was a bit jealous if he was honest, but also very happy for Babs. “It will be here before you know it. And it appears you ought to count yourself lucky. Do I perceive correctly that her temperament is responding to your influence and charms even before she’s your wife? That bodes well.”

“Oh, I am a lucky man. Esther had some hurts, big ones, but she is more open with me all the time, in her affections as well as in sharing her sentiments.” His expression sobered as he inquired, “I hate to ask, but has any kind of resolution been reached on the Edward front?”

“I told Tom he had to be gone before we leave for Sanditon in less than a fortnight. I should probably remind him. So far, he’s done nothing that would lead me to insist Tom fire him outright, but I intend to get to the bottom of why he acquiesced so easily to Lady Denham’s demands.”

“Well, be careful. I’m sure if he sees an advantage, he’ll take it.”

“Are you speaking of Tom or Edward?” Sidney quipped, his patience ever bruised by his brother.

Babs moved his empty plate to the side and leaned in toward Sidney. “What about you, old pal? Last week you sounded like you were ready to...I don’t know...start a mission, get a wife, forge some new path? Any prospects on any of those fronts?”

“Like I’ve said, I had some realizations about the whole business with Eliza. I don’t believe now that I was ever really in love with her. It had more to do with what I wanted than who she was. She had a mean streak that would have spoiled it. Her affections were superficial even if her eyes told me otherwise. That said, I am certain she thought that her love was true.”

“So, are you relieved that you escaped?”

“Certainly. It is difficult knowing that I allowed so much misery into my life on her account for so many years.”

“You must know she’s been widowed, and she is back in London.”

“Yes. In fact, Tom brought her over to join our party at the concert Saturday night.”

“Really? It is always something with Tom, isn’t it?

Sidney nodded.

“Is there anyone else who has piqued your interest? You have been back over a year.” Babington then regarded Sidney more intently, “And, I must say, Parker, you seem lighter, less dark. Brooding Sidney appears to have passed.”

Sidney stopped eating and looked thoughtfully across the table, his breathing subtly shifting under Bab’s gaze. “Just a better understanding of my history, I guess.”

Babington knew an overly weighed answer when he saw one and he raised his eyebrows and gave him his “spill it” truth-eye. Sidney cracked.

Opening his hands in mild surrender, he said somewhat awkwardly. “Only a superficial attraction. Someone who Mary hired for a few weeks while we are all in town. We’ve had the uncanniest knack for crossing paths.”

“A maid?” Babington was amused but in a kind way, for he now had the idea that you don’t chose where your heart lands. “She lives in your house. Why would you not cross paths?”

Sidney could not help smiling at the observation. “Not exactly like that. I helped her start a fire,” he admitted.

“You what??” Babington laughed incredulously.

“She apparently hasn’t been a maid before and didn’t know how to start a coal fire.”

“So not too smart, then, or just inexperienced?”

“Inexperienced. From the countryside, I would guess. No, she quoted, in fact, paraphrased Heraclitus at one point, so I am confident she is smarter than most.”

“And she’s attractive, too?”

Sidney nodded with knowing eyes, brows raised.

“Wow, it does sound like you’re in trouble.”

He doesn’t know the half of it, Sidney thought. The way she looks in that white dress is more than distracting. Her eyes, her dimple, her impetuousness. How she’d seen him in the bath and his pursuit of her through the streets of Kensington. He almost laughed at the thought that he considered mounting Flash that day. That would have been too much, like a scene from a French fairy tale.

“Well, that sounds a bit impossible and unlikely, but by the look of you, she has gotten under your skin. And I know how that is.”

“She’s likely a temporary hire anyway so...” Sidney raised his coffee cup partway to his lips, pursing them a bit with the taste of the words on his mouth.

Babington leaned back in his chair with a look of knowing. “So, is she the spark that lit your new consciousness in the last week? It is rather coincidental.”

“I don’t know. Maybe. My reflections were long overdue, but she is...unsettling.”

Sidney was ready to change the subject.

“So, how’s Crowe doing? Did his father ever get sorted with his mistress?”

Babs decided not to press Sidney for more. His disclosures were more than he had expected.

“Yes, married again. Now he has three new stepsiblings, all with a hand in his father’s allowance. He’s resigned to it, but it’s not helping him stay steady.”

“Hmm, I do hope he’ll find a way to live a day sober now and then. His liver is going to kick it, or the pox will catch him at Mrs. Harries’ at the pace he has taken up visiting.”

“True enough...”

__________

“You might like to taste this, Mrs. Parker. I don’t mean to put m’self out of work, but Miss Charlotte made this today.”

It was late afternoon and Mary had come down to meet with Mrs. Van White, but she had stepped out on an errand. Tomorrow’s meeting with Lady Susan had set her on edge. Entertaining was not her forte, and the stakes felt higher yet, for her visit’s purpose was to discuss the concert, and with Mrs. Campion, Tom and Sidney in attendance, as well.

As usual, Mrs. Waters had everything under control. A fresh supply of coffee and tea had arrived from their best purveyor, shortbread was cooling, and mini rosewater and cream biscuits would be made in fresh in the morning and dolloped with clotted cream and strawberry jam before serving.

“Here you are.”

Mary took a small wedge of the cake. “Oh, Mrs. Waters. That’s heavenly. I’ve never had anything quite like it.”

Mrs. Waters and Charlotte had sampled a thin slice earlier after Charlotte put the butter rum sauce on it, but to be at its best it needed to sit, soak and settle into a nice, dense, moist cake. A day would do it.

“She said it was her mother’s recipe. Butter rum spice cake.”

“Well, you may ask her make it any time. We would love to eat it.” With that, Mary thought about her conversation with Sidney yesterday. Was there some way to keep this young maid who continued to surprise and delight?

Mary had committed herself to keeping expenses as low as possible. Reducing household costs was one of the few things that made her feel that she was helping with Tom’s constant worries about Sanditon and the burden he was obviously shouldering. Whether he would notice, given his disorganization with his paperwork, was another matter entirely.

__________

[Daniel Barenboim Plays Sonata No. 8 in C minor Op. 13 "Pathetique" 1st movement](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=79gzdskOGu4)

Sidney retired to his room early after practicing two more of Bach’s preludes and fugues from the _Well-Tempered Clavier_ and the first movement from Beethoven’s Piano Sonata No. 8, “Pathéthique.” It was not all easy going, but by the time he finished, he had smoothed the measures where his fingers veered toward stumbling.

At times it felt like they were fighting him, their strength and agility diminished after so many years away from the keyboard. However, his memory of the piece was strong and with some willpower and the memories of how Sir George had pushed him along to better the piece, he found himself satisfied with his progress. He wondered if the boxing had made some of his joints extra stiff from a few bad punches. So far, though, his improvement was unencumbered as he played.

He disrobed in his dressing room, slipped on his Banyan and took his place in one of the chairs in front of his chamber’s fireplace to read. He briefly closed his eyes to feel the warmth before reopening them, ready to slip into his book. But his eyes fell on the mantle and his body and breath stilled. One of the small but exquisite amaryllis arrangements was perched there with extra candles placed all along the ledge. Here in his room, her presence came closer still.

Conversing with Babington had raised his awareness of how much she had worked her way into him, but there was little he felt he could do. She was employed by the Parkers. He did not really know her and had no way of acquainting himself with her further without crossing lines that were impossible to cross.

Even if he somehow did, and _if_ there was mutual affection and compatibility, and those were significant “ifs,” it would be an enormous scandal to marry one’s maid. The beau monde would be merciless and it would affect how the family was seen. To be sure, sometimes such notoriety was survivable, even desirable. Poets had affairs, living abroad with women out of wedlock; politicians carried on with mistresses as open secrets.

However, the Parkers did not possess a social standing which made them impervious, insulated from the effects of gossip or the opinions of the untouchables. The scandal could conceivably create positive intrigue around Sanditon or, more likely, fatally tarnish its reputation. His nieces and nephew’s futures were in the balance, as well.

Nevertheless, he did not wish her to leave their employment, if only for her own future. _Surely, she would not have come to them if she had another path or family that could help her. How was it that she was educated, well-spoken, and yet had ended up as a servant? Financial ruin or some type of familial reputational disgrace?_

He decided that before the week was out, he should speak to Mary again and find out more about her plans for Charlotte, and maybe she would tell him more about her. He would simply have to keep a rein on himself, unless he was willing to just see her go. But that was not something he wished to consider as he stared at the crimson flowers above his hearth.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Would you like a master playlist, in addition to the chapter editions? LMK 😉😘


	9. The Meeting

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> To quote Sidney Parker, This is How I Work: ...in the details...hopefully in the right order of priorities in my life. I regret voicing my hope for a Valentine's Day delivery, but console myself that there's been so much to read on AO3 in the last few days! I've resolved to take Panstick's implied advice and not pressure myself again. Sometimes it takes a week.
> 
> But YOU ALL HAVE BEEN LOVELY! 🙏🏼 🌺💛🙏🏼 🌺💛🙏🏼 🌺💛
> 
> Last week, your Twitter discussion had me re-reading my own story to see what I have laid out for you already 😂😂😂. Some very clever and/or well-researched answers 😉😂.
> 
> Hope you enjoy the latest installment!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Full Playlist and Apple Music arriving tomorrow after I sleep.
> 
> Spotify Playlist: Chapter 8 & 9  
> https://open.spotify.com/playlist/3hVrE6FxnSgdntL4qxw96k?si=npetCzX_Swm_TVWglZ3PEQ
> 
> "Low Tea" is served on a low table, a social tea.
> 
> "High Tea" is served on a high table as a more substantial meal for workers returning home. 
> 
> "Afternoon Tea" is the more modern invention that many of us call "High Tea" --Tea with the "sweet works," like scones, and tea sandwiches.
> 
> Maybe there is conflicting info on this, but I'll post my source tomorrow and we can chat over....tea??

**Tuesday**

**8 December 1818**

  
  


Mrs. Waters was about to begin sifting the flour for the cream-filled biscuits when an idea struck her. The Butter Rum Cake would make an amazing trifle. 

__________

Mrs. Van White approached Charlotte after breakfast.

“Charlotte, Mrs. Parker is expecting guests, rather distinguished guests, this afternoon for low tea in the drawing room at 3 o’clock. I would like for you to provide the service.” 

“Oh, Ma’am. I beg your pardon, but are you certain?” Charlotte knew she probably should not question Mrs. Van White, but the idea of her servant skills, or lack thereof, on display publicly sent a flush of panic through her.

“Yes, Charlotte. I know you may have some nerves as you are still becoming accustomed to your front of house duties, but I have every confidence in you. And please don’t take this the wrong way, but there really should not be much to do. 

“The tea and coffee will be served by Mrs. Parker, as hostess, after I prepare it. Thomas can help you deliver the tea and coffee once the guests arrive. After that, it will mostly be common sense. If there is a spill, discreetly fetch a towel; if Mrs. Parker would like you to clear empty plates, she will nod to you. After the guests leave, you will clean up.”

Charlotte took a deep breath and nodded her understanding.

“Now let’s see about getting the linens ready, shall we?...”

__________

Mary’s mind was buzzing. Lady Susan would be arriving in a few hours, along with Mrs. Campion (although she did not really think well enough of her to be concerned with her opinion) and she was unsure how to prepare for the meeting.

Last evening she had written down further thoughts about the proposed musical weekend, but it had not settled her mind. A stream of undecided details and mental notes was pestering her constantly.

Sidney was reading the newspaper in his study when he heard a soft knock at the doorway. It was Mary. “Sidney, would you mind if I ran some thoughts by you for this afternoon’s meeting?

“Of course not. Come. Have a seat.”

She smiled appreciatively and walked over to sit at the edge of her chair, obviously a bit nervous, and began running through her list. He was surprised at the significant length and detail of her list, which covered everything from theme ideas and musical selections to attracting visitors and ticket sales. 

Sidney listened, nodding encouragement and occasionally offering an “excellent” or “perhaps” as Mary rolled on. But as she spoke, she grew more agitated and flustered. Her questions, while good ones, were down the road and around the corner in terms of the timeline for planning the event. 

She had just asked “do you think we will have enough chairs for everyone?” and “do we need to have extra umbrellas on hand?” when Sidney rose from his chair and walked over the bookcase where he leaned against a shelf, obviously thinking about something. This made her pause and look at him. He smiled a reassuring smile and the furrow on her brow relaxed.

“Mary, you have excellent questions. Be assured that, with this level of detailed thinking, you will be an asset to the planning of the event.” 

“Thank you, Sidney.”

“Secondly, the success or failure of this event is not resting on your shoulders. It is a wonderful idea, and, if it proceeds, Lady Worcester and the Royal Society of Musicians will help to ensure the success of the event. They will desire its success as much as we do, and they possess the expertise to ensure it runs smoothly. Sir George has been overseeing musical events for years. I am certain they will tell us what they need.”

Mary took a breath. “I suppose that’s true.” 

“Good. One more thing I would say about meetings, Mary. They have a life of their own. Be prepared with a brief outline of what you wish to discuss, especially if you have certain goals for the meeting. Beyond that, you can’t anticipate everything. Lady Worcester will come with her own questions and all of us will help you answer them. Also, other people in attendance, and I’m thinking of Tom in this case, will have their own ideas,” he said knowingly. “This will take the discussion in different directions and one of your roles in this may be to assist in keeping the conversation focused. I will help you with that, as well, of course.” 

Mary looked at him with gratitude, took a deep breath and rose from her chair. “Sidney, you are so good. Thank you.”

“Not at all, Mary. We can all use some reassurance sometimes.”

__________

The morning passed quickly for Charlotte. By the time she assisted Mrs. Van White with the linens and completed her regular morning chores, it was after 2 o’clock. 

She was harried and desperate for a few moments to herself. After conferring with Mrs. Van White, who was happy to let her take a break, she headed upstairs to her room. 

A break. Just the words floating through her mind made her shoulders relax and her pace up the stairs slow to a steady, unrushed cadence. In her slowing, for the first time she noticed the detailed turning of the balusters, the waxed sheen of the hardwood handrail, and the sound of her footsteps echoing up through the narrow stairwell, becoming the loudest as she reached the small, final landing at the top. 

She felt like she had been going non-stop for over a week. Even in her time off on Sunday she had consoled Miss Lambe and then returned to the kitchen and ended up helping Mrs. Waters in the kitchen. Mrs. Waters was good-natured company, but counseled herself that perhaps next time, she should guard her time off more carefully. 

Once in her room, she assessed her appearance in the small mirror, tucked a few loose hairs back into pins and decided to wash her face. She placed a clean folded cloth directly under the mouth of the pitcher and tipped just enough water onto it to wet the surface, then sunk her entire face into the cool dampness of the soft cloth. Her face was still warm from her morning work so the feeling refreshed her, cheeks and eyelids tingling with sensation as she pulled the cloth away and her damp skin met the chilly room air. She repeated the process several times.

Before returning downstairs, she went to the window, which provided a bird’s eye view of the garden. She had rarely taken in the sight during daylight hours since her days started and finished in the dark. 

The perimeter of trees surrounding the garden moved gently in an afternoon breeze and drew her eyes to the other homes around Bedford Place. Off to the left, she could see where a straight line edge of trees began and supposed that was the edge of Kensington Gardens, home to Kensington Palace and the king’s fourth son, the Duke and Duchess of Kent. Mrs. Waters had spoken of it the other day. 

Her curious gaze wandered back into the garden. The wind swirled tempestuously around the plot, such that the plant groupings swayed at different times, like an invisible hand was brushing over the areas in a sweeping motion. It was somewhat mesmerizing and she could have watched it for some time. 

Her attention, however, was grabbed within a few moments and not for the first time. When she first peered outside, Edward was at the back of the garden, near the gate that led to the mews stables. Not an unexpected sight. Now Lydia was heading in the same direction. 

__________

Mary and Tom were trying to settle themselves while waiting in the drawing room for Lady Susan and Mrs. Campion to arrive. Each was distracting themselves in their own way. Mary was lining up the plates and napkins on the low table in front of her so the patterns and edges all overlapped in the same direction and Tom was straightening his cravat in front of the mirror for what seemed like the hundredth time. 

When the sound of the metal knocker echoed in the front hallway, they each startled and looked at each other somewhat sheepishly. They were a well-to-do family, but it was an exceptional circumstance to have Lady Susan visiting. Not only was she the Prince Regent’s “special friend,” her support of Sanditon could be the impetus for many other good things to come for the resort town.

Alas, it was Mrs. Campion at the door. Tom was overly enthused and Mary subdued but they both put on an appropriate greeting for her, as she returned their greeting and then peered into the rooms around them. One might have thought she was taking in the decor, but, in point of fact, she was looking _into_ the rooms not at the rooms, as if she was looking for something or someone.

A few moments later Jenkins reopened the front door, unprompted, having seen the next carriage arrive, and Lady Susan stepped through the doorway. 

As soon Mary laid eyes on her, she felt much improved. One of the remarkable things about Lady Susan was that good-natured persons of any rank were nearly always put at ease in her presence, despite her fabled social standing. Her assured manner and warm smile told you that she was forthright and fair, saying only what she wanted to say, and with good purpose. Intensifying this effect, her eyes sparkled with an all-knowing, perspicacious intelligence. To those who had nothing to hide, it was reassuring. To those who were self-seeking in any manner, it was off-putting, even threatening. 

Lady Susan went directly to Mary with a warm smile and extended her hand. To Tom, she smiled knowingly, for his countenance was consistent with his behavior at the concert. She knew that he would view her as a means to his own end before much else. No, she was here for Mary.

Sidney entered the front hall and bowed with an appreciative smile, “Lady Worcester.” He was pleased for Mary to have made such an acquaintance and was hopeful this would be an encouragement to her. To Mrs. Campion, he gave a circumspect greeting, “Mrs. Campion.”

As they were about to walk through into the drawing room, Georgiana made her way downstairs. She wished to make Lady Worcester’s acquaintance again. Georgiana, curtsied when she reached the foot of the stairs and Sidney made the introduction. 

“Lady Worcester, this is my ward, Miss Georgiana Lambe. Georgiana, Lady Worcester.”

Sidney realized that he needed to introduce her to Mrs. Campion, as well. Georgiana looked sideways at Sidney as if to ask, is this _the_ _Eliza_? He preserved his stern but even countenance, which he had spent years perfecting, knowing his subtle look of steely forbearance was enough for Georgiana to glean the answer to her unspoken question. Still, Mrs. Campion appeared aware of the shift in the scene on account of her presence, but held her head high, more determined than ever. 

Georgiana continued to look at Sidney questioningly, but Sidney only whispered a gentle reminder that she owed him a list of performances that she wished to attend while in London before turning to head into the meeting.

Mary led Lady Susan and the rest of the party into the drawing room. Looking around, her ladyship commented as she walked toward one of the tables, “Mary, the flower arrangements in your home are magnificent and so unique. A vibrant and cheerful scene graces every jardinière." 

“Thank you, Lady Susan.” 

“I don’t know of any florist in London who designs anything like this. Wherever did you find them?”

Mary “Actually, our new maid has a way with flowers, much to our delight.”

“Well, they are impressive.” 

__________

Jenkins had rung the bell downstairs so Charlotte and Thomas carried the tea and coffee service upstairs and placed it on the table in front of where Mrs. Parker, her two guests, Mr. Tom, and Mr. Sidney were seated. Thomas had carried the sweets upstairs earlier. Charlotte then walked to the nearest corner of the room near the doorway that led to the front hallway, and turned quietly and faced the French doors across the room, ready to assist Mrs. Parker if she needed anything.

Her new role felt odd in its unfamiliarity, but also because, even though she was committed to pretending otherwise, Charlotte was always keenly aware of what everyone else was doing.

Mrs. Van White’s description of the guests as “distinguished” had made Charlotte curious about who the visitors would be. When she entered the room with the tea, she could afford just enough of a look around the room to take in that one woman was a particularly striking brunette with a gorgeous complexion and lovely brown eyes. Her jewel-toned green silk dress complemented her coloring perfectly. She was stunning.

Surreptitiously,Charlotte regarded the other woman a few times in between subtly glancing at Mary for any service cues, while she could not help but take in the conversation unfolding in front of her. At first, the only impression the woman made was of a classic London beauty from the upper classes: spun-gold hair, fine features, and soft blue eyes, and her dress was obviously of the latest fashion. 

Over the next few minutes, however, Charlotte noticed that when the woman thought herself unwatched by the others, her eyes flitted about somewhat nervously as if she was trying to devise a way into the conversation. Her insecurity was feeding an agitation and it only further thwarted her efforts. 

Charlotte knew she was supposed to be disinterested in the conversation, but how could one not listen?

___________

After visiting for a few minutes, Lady Susan turned to Mary who was seated next to her. “Your idea for a musical weekend in Sanditon is intriguing. Please tell me a bit more about the town.”

Tom opened his mouth to speak, but Sidney leaned into him a bit and hoped Lady Susan did not notice. Lady Susan was obviously speaking to Mary.

“The vision for Sanditon is my husband Tom’s. His family, the Parkers, first purchased a modest home along the clifftop for use during the summer years ago. They loved it so much, they bought a large plot of land the following year, the site of which is now a good portion of the town. Sadly, only a year later, they passed, but Tom has been developing the land for the last five years, slowly at first, but we now have a major investor in Lady Denham who lives at Sanditon House. 

“The most luxurious accommodations to date, the terrace apartments are beautifully designed and intended for a more select clientele. They are slated to be finished by late April. If we held the festival in May, that might be the best timing. 

Mary went on to describe the other build-outs, the lodgings, and amenities offered, as well as entertainment opportunities. 

“Tell me more about what you see as the best locations for the concert,” Lady Susan prompted.

“The Assembly Rooms are quite lovely, and I imagine they would hold several hundred people, depending upon the seating arrangements.” Tom nodded and looked as though he might elaborate but Mary continued.

“Sanditon House is another potential venue, with several rooms that could hold 60 people or more in each of the public rooms. Our home, Trafalgar House, could host a small ensemble group for a more exclusive party. We have a harpsichord in the drawing room. 

“Depending on what you and Sir George decide, if there is fine weather, we have the meadows and the area down by the river for a daytime outdoor event or reception with a quartet or ensemble, or perhaps some other entertainment as a complement to the music, a small art exhibition or practicum, even. Watercolor painting is only increasing in fashion these days, I believe, and the vistas are as beautiful as most any area I have seen in the springtime.”

“Mary, your engagement on this scheme is inspired. All of you are likely aware that Brighton is the home of the Royal Pavilion, commissioned by the Prince, with a significant number of musicians in residence there with their own schedule of events. However, I see no harm in coaxing the pounds out of the beau monde and other visitors in Sanditon, as well, especially as it would allow the London musicians to participate. There is nothing else on the calendar in London or Brighton for several weeks around that time. 

Then Lady Susan turned her attention to the men.

“Gentlemen, Mary has given me most of what I need. However, your assistance will likely be needed with the next step. The Royal Society for Musicians’ primary concern is to support the financial betterment of the musicians. Before we commit our resources to a weekend event, we will need assurance of the sound financial position of the town.

As I understand it, Sanditon’s development is underwritten by Lady Denham, and presumably there are significant loans from banks. Since the town is in the early stages of development, it is not expected that the properties are, as yet, earning substantial income. However, the fundamentals should still be solid. I presume you have ledgers from which you could create a balance sheet. So, the next step will be a financial statement with your bank details to me by next Tuesday. lt will be confidential, of course.”

Tom ventured, “A week is not much time. Perhaps it could wait until after Christmas?” You could feel the other Parkers hold their breath waiting for Lady Susan’s reply. 

“It is important that we solidify any commitment sooner than later,” said Lady Susan. “If Sanditon turns out not to be the right partner at this time, we will want to have the opportunity to pursue other avenues for a springtime concert, and mid-winter is getting a bit late for that. She looked at him with measured regard and those knowing eyes. “So, a financial statement next Tuesday, then?”

“Of course,” Tom said, as casually as he could muster. 

She continued, “Once that is done, provided everything is in order, we can discuss logistical details and make more definite plans with the Royal Society of Musicians and Sir George.”

Mrs. Campion finally spoke. “Lady Worcester, that sounds wonderful. I would like to offer that if there is any concern over the financial statement of the Sanditon project, I would be happy to provide a guarantee for the concert. As you said, Sanditon is in its infancy and, what with having a substantial allowance at my disposal, perhaps this is an investment I am willing to make. The Parkers have a dear place in my heart.”

Sidney hoped he had imagined that her gaze had come to rest on him at her last words. He refused to look at her to check, however.

Lady Susan’s eyes narrowed almost imperceptibly. “That’s rather generous of you, Mrs. Campion. Not many investors would write such a blank check for so little promise of a return. However, the concern is not only with the financial solvency of the weekend, but also the reputation of the Royal Society, which could be tarnished if something were to happen, regardless of whether the musicians are paid. Let’s cross that bridge when we come to it.”

Continuing, she said, “Well, we have done enough business for today. Now I would love to know about that distractingly beautiful pianoforte I spy across the room.” The twinkle in her eyes returned, signalling the firm conclusion of official business.

“Thank you, Lady Susan,” answered Mary. “It was a gift to the senior Parkers for their diplomatic service in lieu of financial remuneration--a Broadwood and Sons. Sidney plays beautifully. In fact, the nieces and nephews were delighted when they coaxed him to play this morning for them."

Eliza looked at him, knowingly. “Oh, Sidney. Are you still playing? Is it not best for a young lady to entertain guests and children?” Perhaps it was meant as a tease but there was a history behind it.

Sidney was instantly taken back to their courtship when she had insisted he not play publicly. For some reason, Eliza had associated it with mediocre playing exhibitions put on by young women trying to impress potential suitors. Her words always implied that it was unsuitable for her fiancé to play in hosts' homes when they attended social functions. She had been so put off by it that he had stopped playing altogether. 

Lady Susan regarded Mrs. Campion with a secret incredulity and thought it was time for some mischief. “Mr. Parker, do I understand correctly that Sir George was your piano instructor in your youth? You must have been a musician of some talent to have studied under him.”

“My mother was an excellent pianist and she and my father were friends with Sir George. He took me on when I was twelve years old and I studied under him for five years,” Sidney said modestly.

“I would love to hear you play. Won’t you indulge us with the pleasure?” encouraged Lady Susan.

Sidney did not wish to embarrass himself, but he thought for a moment and realized there was really nothing to lose. 

“If you will grant me the allowance that I just returned to it after almost a decade, I will play something for you.”

Part of him wanted to show Eliza that she no longer pulled his strings.

Sidney was grateful for his practice the night before, selecting Beethoven’s “Sonata No. 8 in C-minor, Op. 13, 1. Grave - Allegro di molto e con brio.” As when he was a young man, playing for a small group was his forte. He enjoyed creating music that elicited a response and the intimacy of the setting allowed him to fully immerse himself in the music, as he loved to do.

_YouTube for those not using Spotify:_

_[Daniel Barenboim plays Beethoven Sonata No. 8 Op. 13 (Pathetique)](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=SrcOcKYQX3c))_

The first chord was intense and demanding, pulling any stray attention in the room to the pianoforte. From there, slow, dramatic chords lifted from the instrument in a halting rhythm, alternating _piano_ and _fortissimo_ , quiet and loud. Sidney’s hands warmed and limbered on these measures before the piece demanded running fingers down the keyboard at speed. From there, the cadence built and the melody ran like musical waves being sliced with notes and chords in rapid succession. 

He played deftly, with strength and feeling. At one point, the piece turned playful and he half-smiled, enjoying the levity and the sensation of his fingers running so energetically along the keys. 

When the movement drew to a close, a silence came over the room, and Lady Susan said, “Please continue, Mr. Parker. The second movement is one of my favorites.”

And so he continued, filling the gentle rhythm and poignant melody of the Adagio cantabile movement with his own feeling. When he finished, the room hung quiet with the lingering beauty of the music.

Playing like this again, he felt as though he had been reunited with a part of himself. To play for others in a way that was restorative, with one member of the present company being a source of his loss, made the healing feel more real. It was proof he was becoming more himself. 

He was somewhat lost in the moment as he pivoted back toward the room, but then was suddenly quite aware of Charlotte’s presence standing directly opposite him. His eyes moved across her face as long as he dared and he thought he saw her blink a tear back.

When he faced the group, everyone was smiling with some measure of appreciation. 

“Sidney, that was wonderful,” ventured Eliza, as he made his way back to the group. He acknowledged her comment with a tight smile and slight nod. 

Lady Susan regarded him inquisitively, “Mr. Parker, your musicality reveals a poetic soul. Why ever did you stop? 

Sidney thought for a moment about how to put it. “Sometimes, a person’s opinion of oneself and one’s talent becomes so entwined in another that they lose track of themselves, of what and whom they truly love. It was in that way that I lost a taste for it at that time.

“Well, now that you have recovered this prized gift, I am certain you will never let it go. And wonderful as well that you and Sir George have become reacquainted. He spoke very highly of you and your family.”

There was a slight pause in the conversation, so Mary offered, “Lady Susan, would you care to join us for a Butter Rum Trifle? If it was made with the cake I tasted yesterday, it will be a treat.” 

Lady Susan, “I'd be delighted. Trifle is a favorite of mine and I broke my fast hours ago.”

Puddings were passed and everyone waited politely until Lady Susan had begun to eat, “Mary, this is scrumptious. Compliments to your cook.”

“I understand it was a team effort. Our maid Charlotte made the cake, a family recipe.” Mrs. Parker beamed at Charlotte in the corner who flushed through three shades of pink. Lady Susan picked up on the gesture and nodded to her. “It’s excellent.”

“Are you not partial to sweets, Mr. Parker?” she said, addressing Sidney. 

“Not ordinarily.”

Mary offered, “I think I’ve seen you eat maybe two puddings since you returned from Antigua.”

“Antigua has an unlimited sugar cane supply. I supposed whatever affinity I had for it was lost there.”

And how long were you in Antigua, Mr. Parker?” 

“Seven years.”

“And what took you there, Mr. Parker?” 

His lips pursed and his eyes flitted to Mrs. Campion and back to Lady Worcester. 

“Business.” Lady Susan took that to mean there was a story too big for present company.

As they enjoyed the trifles, Lady Susan remarked, “Those flowers really are gorgeous. It reminds me of one of my favorite love stories. Does anyone know it?” She glanced around.

Sidney recollected the story vaguely, “Oh. You mean the story of Amaryllis from Greek mythology?”

Lady Susan smiled. “Yes, Mr. Parker. A lovely maiden named Amaryllis fell in love with a handsome but unfeeling shepherd. The Oracle at Delphi told her to pierce her heart every day as she walked to his cottage. At the end of the month these gorgeous crimson flowers sprung up along the path. Alteo sees the beauty of the flowers that came from her heart and he is smitten. That is love, don’t you think, the self-sacrifice of Amaryllis, literally spilling her heart to win his love?”

“So she spilled her heart in love for him? It makes one wonder what he did to deserve her sacrifice,” Sidney pondered.

“Indeed. Perhaps something had made him blind to their compatibility or had hardened his heart,” responded Lady Susan with a wise smile. “Well, this has been delightful,” she said as she rose from the settee to make her departure. 

After Lady Susan left, Sidney turned to see Eliza still standing near the doorway to the drawing room.

“Sidney, it’s so good to see you again. I confess I had rather hoped that we might have the opportunity to speak privately today.” She was persistent.

Of all the people he had chosen to give a piece of his mind to over the years, she most deserved to hear the truth. His annoyance threatened to become ire, but he kept his composure, hoping that his words would have the desired effect. 

“Mrs. Campion I do not believe that I have anything to discuss with you, of any private or personal nature. The circumstances of our parting many years ago were disagreeable and hurtful to say the least. If you wish to inquire about investing in Sanditon, that is my brother’s business. Also, it would be best if you addressed me as Mr. Parker. We would not wish others to conclude that any type of understanding or association exists between us which, in fact, does not.”

She looked at him, obviously surprised at his strength and candor. 

“Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have other business to attend to. Good day, Mrs. Campion.”

Sidney returned to the drawing room. He did, in fact, have other business to attend to. He was not usually partial to sweets and so he had passed on the trifle. But now that he knew Charlotte had made the cake, he was curious. He took a glass dessert dish and a spoon.

Charlotte had just returned for the dessert trays but Mr. Sidney was standing in front of them and he had obviously just taken a bite of the cake, custard and cream. She looked up at him, surprised he was standing with a pudding in hand given the earlier conversation.

He returned her look with a different intensity than she had seen before.

“It’s delicious.” He held her gaze for a lingering moment and then smiled softly and excused himself to his study, trifle dish in hand. 

He considered the space on the shelf where his open bottle of rum usually stood as he finished the cake, which tasted delightfully of rum but was not too sweet and incredibly moist, and then licked the spoon clean of a billowy, creamy custard. He had brought back the case from Mr. Lambe’s estate on Antigua and was pleased it had been put to good use. Nearly the whole case was left and he seldom drank it, save for a few times over the summer when he had the taste for an “El Draque,” like he used to drink at the bar in St. John’s on occasion.

Sidney’s thoughts returned to Charlotte. The reality of their disparate social standings was somehow more noticeable in the company of Lady Susan and Mrs. Campion. But what also struck him was how she was so remarkable, even as a new maid, that her talents were noted not once, but twice, in the same company. Sidney found himself cursing the rigid class structure that had benefited him for so long, as well as appreciating the likely mistake it was to underestimate Charlotte Heywood. When his wonderings about what else he might not know about her proved fruitless, his thoughts turned once again to how he might convince Mary to keep her without diving too deeply into his motivations.

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> BUTTER RUM CAKE / TRIFLE
> 
> Volume and Weight Measurements provided ☺️ They will hopefully work for all the peeps everywhere!
> 
> Caribbean Style Rum Cake: https://www.kingarthurbaking.com/recipes/caribbean-style-rum-cake-recipe (The rum sauce is heavenly and I'm not a big rum fan. Keep it very warm or stir it before using because it still separates after boiling.) Lots of good-looking recipes for Butter Rum cake out there. The first 20 readers get free DM advice via Twitter😉.
> 
> Vanilla Pastry Cream: https://www.theflavorbender.com/creme-patissiere-vanilla-pastry-cream/ (I used the variation with 6 yolks from the notes since my husband and son were making macarons...yes, it was quite a sweet Valentine's Day. Afterward, I folded in a few cups of freshly whipped cream, very lightly sweetened, added a tiny pinch of salt and a splash of Bacardi Gold rum, as it wasn't very rummy, and layered them together. Orange zest for garnish.)


	10. A Change of Key

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Good grief that took a while. I hope you like it 💛. 
> 
> If you've been begging for plot development, this is for you 😘. More to come in the next chapter.
> 
> And please. WAIT to read the notes at the end until the end. Trust me.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> MASTER SPOTIFY PLAYLIST: https://open.spotify.com/playlist/7j7zSHPGpTgMhMMxr0gGzE?si=EJQMUL19TiuhfbWVvD6Odw
> 
> Spotify link for the chapter. I HIGHLY recommend listening to the music toward the end of the chapter.  
> https://open.spotify.com/playlist/4SDfq1dqhO5Vrpg4ZtLH4Y?si=Xy6qUQ1CSKCsAmWsI5xqFw
> 
> A modern piano arrangement of a J.S. Bach organ work is included in the playlist, as well, because it was so in the spirit of the chapter. And who knows...Sir George was an organist so maybe he did a similar arrangement for Sidney?? 
> 
> If you like this week's musical selections, click thru to the pianist's 2018 Bach album. It's excellent.
> 
>   
> Regency Men: Dandies vs Corinthians  
> https://shannondonnelly.com/2011/08/18/regency-corinthians-dandies-rakes-and-young-blades/

**Wednesday 9 December 1818**

Yesterday afternoon was at the forefront of Charlotte’s mind for so many reasons as she went from windowsill to windowsill to wall-hanging to bannister, cloth in hand, dust flecks stirring through the low rays of early morning light.

Her first formal duties as a parlor maid in company had been successful and Lady Worcester had complimented her cake. She was surprised beyond measure when it had shown up in the trifle. Mrs. Waters later apologized about blindsiding her, but she said that she didn’t want her to be nervous about it -- “as St. Benedict tells us, ‘it’s easier to beg forgiveness than seek permission.’ _And_ , it’s not a bad thing to impress the Parkers.”

The Parkers. 

An intriguing scene had unfolded between all of them yesterday. It was a meeting wrapped in a social call, and Mary Parker had been at the helm! Mr. Sidney and Mr. Tom were quiet most of the time, which she thought was particularly out of character for the latter. 

She had been surprised to see that Mr. Sidney and Mrs. Campion were more than casually familiar with each other. Why she was surprised, she wasn't sure. Mrs. Campion had addressed him as “Sidney” and her manner toward him went from fawning to cool to patronizing. He, on the other hand, barely took notice of her--a tactical forbearance, it seemed to her. That he never used her first name soothed a tension in Charlotte that she had to admit arose the moment she heard his first name on the lady’s lips. 

Their relationship, whatever it was, drew her attention to how little she knew of Sidney Parker, at least who he was outside his home. It was deceiving that so many of his personal habits were already well-known by her. 

She knew that he usually discarded his coat while working at his desk and occasionally went without his cravat and or even a waistcoat, like when he had taught her how to start a coal fire. When he was waiting, he had a habit of pacing a short distance and tapping a surface once with his right index finger. When he was idle, he nearly always appeared to be in thought. His several pairs of boots stood at attention in a neat row in his dressing room and she had seen how he left his small towel folded and draped across his washbasin before Harriet had come to collect the linens in the morning. She knew that his handkerchief was kept in his left coat pocket and that he sometimes folded the newspaper uncharacteristically roughly, with a bit of a flourish, when he had finished with it. Occasionally, he would leave a book he was reading next to a finished glass of port or brandy, but mostly he was tidy and exact.

In the company of his family, he was often quiet, sometimes pensive, and yet movingly emotive at the piano. His playful and patient side emerged with his nieces and nephews. Occasionally, she overheard him in conversation with his family at breakfast or after dinner, including Arthur and Diana, whose temperaments were so incongruous to his own. He appeared to make an effort with them in an unselfish sort of way that was awkward but endearing. It reminded her of how helpful he had been to her last week, though she knew instinctively that his manner with her was decidedly different. 

On the other hand, his brother Tom was capable of bringing out a fierce anger in him that could turn on a penny to weariness and resignation. And Miss Lambe had made no secret of her irritation with his guardianship. She had confided in her several more times since Sunday, when she had taken trays to her room, implying each time at some point that he was a significant source of her unhappiness. 

So who was Sidney Parker of London? She knew that if she had seen him on the street in passing, she would have judged him to be a dandy or Corinthian, or some other Regency concoction. But where a Regency dandy might have worn an oversized cravat or flashy brass buttons, everything about him was measured, understated. His gaze too substantive for a man chiefly concerned with his appearance. 

She knew he boxed, fought even. So did society think him a Corinthian, a Regency sportsman bent on proving himself? But surely anyone who knew him at all would see that his pastime was about something else. She wasn’t even sure exactly what it was -- a release, a catharsis? It wasn’t about his reputation, of that she was quite certain. He was not a man seeking the spotlight--if anything, the exact opposite.

Before yesterday, she had known that he had been to Antigua, but for seven years! That was a long time. Did he enjoy it, had it been a necessity, or had he sought to avoid returning to something in England? She wondered if it had something to do with why he quit playing piano, and what had prompted him to return to it again?

When she removed last week’s newspapers from his study she was startled to see his likeness on the front page of one of the London newspapers. ( _What she wouldn’t give to have daily access to a newspaper and the time to read it!)_ She placed the newspaper at the side of her basket and read the article surreptitiously before she slipped it into the other rubbish. His ship had been seized by pirates but made it back to London with limited damage. So he was a ship owner. 

Still, Sidney Parker the Londoner remained mostly an enigma and Charlotte was left to consider the rest of yesterday afternoon as she washed out her cleaning cloths. Of course her thoughts almost immediately swung back to him. She smiled, recalling his piano playing. It was the first time she’d been able to see him as he played; her attempt to view him from the hallway staircase last week had been extremely short lived. 

At first, she decided it was best to err on the side of caution and not watch him directly. She was behind everyone else in the room, but she was afraid that he could see her, as she could see him at the edge of her vision. But she soon realized that all his attention had to be focused on what he was doing. His arms and shoulders looked so strong and nimble. She watched enraptured as his expressions altered from intense to amused to playful and then, it was like a beautiful blend of all his emotions was brought forward in the Second Movement and stilled, quieted. It was stirring and magical to see him so lost in the music. Something about that piece of music and the way he played it brought out all her emotions. 

When she’d returned to the room from taking a tea tray to the kitchen, he’d had such a satisfied look on his face, his mouth full of a bite of the trifle. When their eyes met, for a split second he had the air of someone who had been caught sneaking something--maybe all too aware that he had disavowed sweets during the meeting.

She blushed thinking of how her breath had caught when her eyes had been captured by his subsequent gaze and he had complimented the cake in resonant tones that went right through her. Had he noticed her reaction to him? She blushed deeper still.

Even when he was quietly engaged in a book or work, his presence infused the whole space and she could not escape him. But his look yesterday was like he had taken her someplace else with his eyes, only the two of them. Had he meant to do that? Was it just the effect he had on her? She knew it felt like more than it should, but she could not know what had caused him to look at her like that, could she? 

Sigh. Charlotte knew her attraction to him was more intense and somehow different than she had ever imagined such a thing to be. But then, she told herself that he was exceedingly handsome, not a little mysterious, and completely beyond her, so she was safe in her thoughts. Figuring out this conundrum of a man was a way to pass the time. Very likely, she would not be employed by the Parkers for much longer anyway.

__________

Sidney arrived in the dining room earlier than usual to find Mary was on her own, looking at two letters that had just arrived. Jenkins was elsewhere so he thought this was the chance he’d been hoping for to speak with her about Charlotte. 

“Good morning, Mary. Well done yesterday.”

“Thank you, Sidney.” She smiled pleasantly with some pride in her eyes. She had just received a thank you note from Lady Susan and it was just as charming as one would expect. 

“Lady Susan seemed very pleased with the visit.”

“Yes, she’s written this morning and was highly complimentary of the whole afternoon. Regardless of what happens with the concert, it has been wonderful to make her acquaintance,” said Mary, trying to put the whole thing in perspective.

“Well, you carried the meeting and whatever the outcome, you should be proud.”

“Whatever I did was only improved by you...and Charlotte’s cake and flowers. Your piano playing was brilliant. I am glad you were agreeable to playing.”

“If my experience is any indication, Lady Susan is a very tough person to say no to, and it felt good to play again.”

Mary wanted to ask about how he felt about having Mrs. Campion there, but it had been pretty obvious that he had only tolerated her presence, so she let it lie. “Hopefully Tom provides what she needs. I worry that he questioned her request. You’ve seen his office--do you think he can get his ducks in a row for the financial statement?”

“Quite perceptive, Mary. I am concerned about the same thing. I’ll have a chat with him.”

Just when Sidney thought he had lost his chance to segue naturally into talking about Charlotte, Mary reflected back to the meeting, “You know, at one point I thought Lady Susan might want to hire Charlotte out from under our noses for her flower work. And that cake was _excellent_.”

“It was quite delicious.”

“Oh, you ended up having some.”

“Yes. I must have been a bit peckish after the long meeting.” He made an excuse. In his own mind: _Of course I tried Charlotte’s cake._ “So, have you made a decision about whether to hire her permanently?" he ventured as casually as possible.

“No. I was so preoccupied with the concert meeting until yesterday. I would love to keep her, but I don’t want to do it for sentimental reasons, not when we so obviously need to keep our finances in check.” 

“Well, a maid’s salary isn’t much in the scope of all the expenses.” This was true. 

Mary concurred. “It’s true. And she has proven herself time over time this last week.” 

“Do you know anything about her background?” asked Sidney, digging a little deeper into the topic. “She appears to have talents and manners atypical of her station.”

“It’s funny you mention it. I’ve wondered that myself. On the evening she first came to us, she said that she was raised on a farm. Her dress and manner seemed finer than most maids, but suppose I put it out of head. She was seeking a maid position, so I thought it more likely that her family were tenants on the estate. Her clothes could be hand-me-downs from wealthier relatives or even a woman on the estate. It’s not unheard of. Is there a reason you ask?” 

_Oh, how to answer that_ , thought Sidney. “Well, it's a bit of puzzle, really. She appears to have some education and to a greater degree than is usual, even among the upper classes. Long term it seems like she might be more suited to a governess position or something.” _Damn it. What are you thinking, Parker? Even if it’s true, Mary already has a governess._

“You know, why don’t I first ask Mrs. Van White. She may have gleaned something about her past and, of course, I need to consult with her regarding what the needs of the house are. She may have a different perspective on how it has been to be down a maid this autumn. I seem to have gotten ahead of myself.”

“Of course, Mary. That sounds wise.” 

_Not exactly the outcome I was hoping for_ , thought Sidney, _but at least I know where Mary stands on the matter_. 

___________

Breakfast had been delicious, again. She never tired of Mrs. Waters’ cooking after her morning work. Hungry and ready for a respite, this morning she had oatmeal bread with butter and jam, eggs, Lincolnshire sausages, and canned plums. She would have almost worked solely for Mrs. Waters’ cooking. Indeed, she wasn’t paid much beyond her room and board, so it was good that the food was so delicious and her room warm enough most of the time, at least with the extra blankets on the bed.

Charlotte was also happy that, for the most part, the servants got along. Claudine, Mrs. Parker’s ladies’ maid, was making an effort to overcome her shyness and the language barrier and make conversation with her at mealtimes. It probably helped that she had assisted her with a few heavier tasks over the weekend, after she had injured her hand. She even brought her a salve from the stillroom with Mrs. Van White’s permission. 

Harriet was becoming friendlier by the day, and Charlotte wondered if it was because Lydia was preoccupied with Edward. The tie between the two was subtle, of course, for carousing would never have been tolerated, but she had caught a look between them earlier in the week. Lydia came to her room that night to half beg, half threaten Charlotte to mind her own business. 

She had actually been thankful that after her first two days with the Parkers, Edward’s attentions toward her had ceased. But now she wondered if there was more to it than just his interests moving elsewhere. She didn’t trust him and it made her question if whatever he and Lydia appeared to be doing was illicit, nefarious, or just messing about. She didn’t feel like she had enough information to go to Mrs. Van White, but she would keep her eyes and ears open. She didn’t want to presume too much, or be a busybody, or a snitch. Did Lydia know what she was getting herself into? 

She was barely finished eating when Miss Lambe called for a tray for the third time this week. Charlotte was beginning to wonder it had something to do with the conversations they’d been having. Charlotte just listened, of course, unless Miss Lambe asked her a question or solicited her opinion.

Ever since she consoled Miss Lambe in the garden, her desirablity as a confidant appeared to be on the rise. Miss Lambe continued to ask her opinion on rather important matters, and even offered her fears. She asked her what she knew of love and then shared her despair of finding a match before she was an old hag, both because men were prone to lying and because her guardian stood in the way -- her “overprotective, jaded guardian who would never believe a man to be her match even if he were the most amazing man ever.” 

As Charlotte set down Georgiana’s tray and turned to ask if there was anything else, Georgiana asked, “Charlotte, can I tell you something? I’ve met someone very interesting…”

__________

Not long after noon, Mary had thought to check in with Sidney in his study after her consultation with Mrs. Van White, but instead nearly walked into a conversation she did not wish to interrupt. So she took out her embroidery, which she had not touched in some time, and sat down in the drawing room, _mostly_ intending not to eavesdrop. 

Georgiana’s voice: 

“I just don’t understand why I can’t take a walk in the park with my friends.” 

“Georgiana. This is London, not Sanditon. We have been over this before. It may seem odd, that in such a libertine city as London that there are more restrictions to protect a young lady’s reputation, but I would say that is precisely the point. Any young woman who wishes for her eligibility, her honor, to remain intact must be accompanied. If you wish to attract a proper suitor, a worthy suitor, you will want your honor preserved. To do otherwise is to court disaster, or at least a severely restricted pool of eligible young men.” 

An enormous sigh could be heard from the next room. 

“Fine.”

“Do I need to worry about Miss Barrymore’s reputation and its reflection on you if her parents are letting her visit the park only in your company?

“No…..I hadn’t asked her, yet.”

“Ah. So you presumed that I was the one mucking up your plans.”

Eye-roll. 

“Georgiana. I’ll say it again. Despite my...prior absences and lack of attentiveness, I intend to do better and I can offer you some evening entertainment while we are in London. Whether you believe it or not, I would like it if you were not cooped up here all the time.” 

Georgiana had all but forgotten that she had the list of shows she wished to see rolled up in her hand. She gave it to Sidney.

“You do remember, Sidney, that I am playing cards with Miss Barrymore and Miss Fox this afternoon? ...And I’m taking Thomas with me.” 

“Yes, very good,” he said, wondering if he was allowed to remember after she’d reminded him. 

He glanced at her list and smiled softly. “Very good. Thank you. I’ll let you know what I can do and let’s figure out if one of your friends wishes to accompany you once I know if I can get seats.”

He called after her, “And don’t forget the ball on Saturday evening!”

Sidney exhaled. When he had followed up with her (again) about his request for a list of shows she wished to see, he had thought it would be a friendly conversation. But he could see now that if he was going to survive being the guardian of a 17-year-old headstrong young lady, he was going to have to quit expecting everything to go to plan, especially when he had spent so many months creating low expectations. 

He wondered how she was doing after her disappointment with Otis last summer, but he wanted to build a trust with her before asking. Maybe he could find a way to exceed her expectations in the coming weeks and build a better rapport. He could at least attempt it. 

In the past, he felt the guilt of her father’s trust and expectations on top of everything else and he was paralyzed. But as with so many things of late, he had a new perspective -- that her care was about his integrity and her life, not another burden. The question was whether he was making amends soon enough, and the thought made him worried and regretful. 

___________

Mary finished her section of embroidery and went in to speak with Sidney, knowing from what she heard of his conversation with Georgiana that he might need a few minutes. 

“Is this a good time?"

“It’s fine, Mary. These days, I am not sure if there is ever a perfect time,” said Sidney, acknowledging the moving parts that made up his life these days. 

“I spoke with Mrs. Van White about Charlotte. It is quite tragic as we expected. Her parents passed separately. First, her father died in a fire on the estate, sometime in her adolescence. He grew flower bulbs, in addition to his main role on the farm, so he was likely at least the administrator, if not the owner, of the estate. And then her mother died of illness a few years back. She has a brother and a sister still alive. The brother is in the Royal Navy.”

“Wow. That sounds quite difficult.” 

“So, not a definitive answer as to whether she is a gentleman’s daughter, but she would be qualified for a governess position. It’s too bad she doesn’t appear to have extended family. She would obviously make a wonderful wife to a man of means without the need for a dowry from his bride, but she is apparently without the ability to keep herself in society.”

To hear Mary say this outloud took Sidney’s breath away and stripped him bare. Was it because he knew in that moment that his belief that he was unsuitable for marriage was faltering? He had followed a mental path to Charlotte before but the number of obstacles was falling and that made him feel less in control. He still didn’t know whether they were truly compatible. He barely knew her. And there was the opinion of the beau monde, the Parkers’ standing in society, but that wall was lower now, as Mary's words had illuminated. Maybe he was merely jealous of the idea of her marrying another. But why would that be if he didn’t already care for her?

For not the first time that week, Mary interrupted his thoughts with this phrase, “Sidney, I have an idea…”

__________

Sidney ruminated in the night air, cigar in hand as he paced the rear terrace. He had always appreciated Mary’s stalwart disposition, loyalty, and loving manner with the family, but this week her prolific fount of ideas had caught him completely off-guard. 

“Sidney! Charlotte is waiting for us,” Mary called out the French door.

_Would it be a fit?_

Charlotte sat on the sofa next to Mary, a look of uncertainty in her big brown eyes as she regarded him coming in from the garden. 

“Pardon me,” he offered. “I hope I didn’t keep you. It’s a fine evening for some fresh air,” disregarding the cold draft that entered with him. He was difficult to chill. 

“Not at all, Sidney.” She turned to Charlotte. “You must be wondering why we’re gathered here. Mr. Parker and I wished to speak to you this evening about your future. We feel we might be able to help improve your situation. You have become quite an asset to our household in your brief time with us and believe you have greater potential beyond your present role. 

Mr. Parker had moved to stand opposite them in front of the fire, but he was obviously letting Mary take the lead. It did puzzle Charlotte as to why he was there but mostly she had hoped that they weren’t going to let her go early for some reason. 

“Thank you, ma’am. That is most generous.” 

“First, I hope you don’t find my questions impertinent or nosy or too....trying” offered Mary, “but we’d like to better understand what circumstances brought you to us. Frankly, you seem more than capable in your role and Mrs. Van White had spoken of a tragedy in your family.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“You were raised on a farm and, as I understand it, your parents have both passed.” 

Charlotte nodded. 

“May I ask what happened, specifically?” 

"In December of 1814, just before I turned eighteen, a fire broke out on our farm estate in Willingden.” Mary glanced very briefly at Sidney. It did appear that her father was a gentleman. “The fire could not have been going for long and my father was trying to let the animals out when a portion of the roof collapsed. The fire spread quickly to other outbuildings on our family’s estate. In addition to my father, my younger siblings passed, as well. Only the house and hay barn, oddly enough, remained unscathed.” Charlotte swallowed and blinked back a few tears. She was not used to speaking of it.

“Charlotte, that is incredibly tragic. You are brave to be able to speak of it so directly. You have my _sincerest_ condolences,” Mary said, reaching out to squeeze Charlotte’s hand. 

Mary paused to let Charlotte catch her breath. 

Charlotte lifted her eyes and looked at both of them. She wasn’t sure how much detail was proper to reveal for they were her employers, after all, but their faces spoke only of care and concern so she continued. “My brother, Matthew, my sister, Alison, and I were the ones left to help Mother save the estate. We thought we might be able to run it at reduced capacity as Matthew was almost 19 at the time. Father had taught me bookkeeping, and we, of course, had renters on the property. We tried for two years. 

“The first year was incredibly difficult. Some of the tenants left. Having lost equipment or animals themselves, they were without enough income to make the payments even though we were willing to work with them. And without the income from surplus grain and with the loss of livestock, we had to let some of the laborers go, too. Matthew was good with day-to-day operations, but he didn’t have enough of Father’s experience to run the farm during a crisis, and Father was a very hands-on gentleman, so we lost his work as well. Mother, well, she was grieving terribly. 

“At first we thought there would be insurance money, to rebuild the barn and other outbuildings, and purchase livestock and supplies, but when we tried to collect on the policy, we were told the company’s holdings were insufficient. The insurer was insolvent and going into administration.”

Sidney looked at her with even greater regard for what she had endured. His whole face tightened, his jaw clenched at the injustice of what had happened to her family, in spite of their best efforts. 

“The next year was worse. The next harvest year was 1816, the ‘Year Without A Summer’ as they say. There was almost no harvest and prices for the livestock we did have fetched almost nothing with so many farmers looking to sell. We were completely depleted and the banks would not look at loaning to a farm without an experienced estate owner and little infrastructure.

“To be fair, Father did have some debt, too. He had started a side business forcing flowers and had taken out a loan to purchase bulbs and construct a building where they could be grown." 

“Is that how you knew about the amaryllis, paperwhites, and other other bulbs?” Mary asked. 

“Yes, I was 13 years old when my father took me to a royal exhibition at Kew Gardens that described the latest techniques in horticulture from the Continent,” her face lifting a bit at the memory. “He always said he didn't like to travel, but he made an exception for this endeavor. Several growers had demonstrations, as they were seeking to sell their supplies to hobbyists here in England and impress potential buyers from florists who served the aristocracy. 

“Before he took out the loan, he had been named as a supplier to Grant and Plum, a large floral distributor in Kent. When he died, the money from the loan had been spent already on the outbuilding and supplies that were destroyed in the fire. We owed the entire sum.

“Then, Mother got sick and we had doctor’s bills, and...she passed as well.” At this, Charlotte’s tears suddenly pooled and fell onto her cheeks. Mr. Sidney, himself barely holding onto his composure, stepped closer and offered his handkerchief.

“Thank you,” she said gratefully as she took it. After dabbing the tears from her face, she sniffed, took a determined breath and continued. “We couldn’t afford to wait another year to sell. We had to settle the loan, pay the solicitor’s fees, and taxes, and you can imagine that the land was worth much less with only a house and hay barn on it. Land isn’t worth what it used to be. 

“My brother Matthew received an extremely modest sum. He used a small portion to give relief to the tenants who were truly destitute and then granted my sister and I each a small savings for when we both set out to work this fall. We would both still be living with him, but he decided to enlist. We agreed that in the long run, it was probably for the best. Eventually, if we needed it, he would be better able to support us if his time in the Royal Navy went well.

“Was he able to get a commission?” Mr. Sidney inquired.

“No. He would have needed a sponsor and our only relative with any standing remains abroad, whereabouts unknown. We haven’t heard from him in years, despite the efforts of the solicitor.”

“And your sister?”

“She has been working the past few months as a governess for a family in Eastbourne. Our mother knew the children’s mother years ago and I thought it would be better for her to go,” Charlotte showing herself unintentionally to be thinking once again of her siblings before herself.

All of Mary’s mothering instincts had come out as Charlotte spoke so she was more candid than ever, “Charlotte, I know that first and foremost you must miss your family terribly. But I have to say, you must realize that you are the daughter of a gentleman and a very attractive young woman. I don’t mean to be insensitive, but have you considered any proposals? I find it difficult to imagine that you haven’t had a few suitors, in spite of the circumstances.”

Charlotte blushed and Sidney bristled, but tried to appear indifferent. 

“There was one boy in Willingden, when I was 18, but he was a very poor match. His parents always quarreled, and his father had a poor reputation. He seemed more interested in, well, having it known that we were together than actually courting me. I suspect he even started some rumors about us. Perhaps you think I’m naïve, but I would rather lower my social standing than be in a loveless marriage, with a man who doesn’t respect me. 

“When I lived with my brother this last year and a half before I came to London, he resided in an even smaller village than Willingden. It wasn’t really the kind of place with any prospects.” She recalled, “The only bachelors were an innkeeper with wooden teeth and a nearly retired blacksmith with terrible gout. I supposed that would have taken care of both Alison and I, if we hadn’t been so stubborn and picky.” Realizing what she had just said, her face quirked up with a wry half-grin.

Mary and Sidney tried to suppress their amusement, but when Charlotte glanced up and saw their faces turning rosy with mirth, she let out a little laugh, that was all the other two needed to smile at her comment, as well. It was so like Charlotte to see the humor in the situation and not shirk from giving her unedited version of events. 

“Thank you so much for your candor, Charlotte, and not being annoyed with my questions.” 

“Mrs. Parker, I could never be upset with you. You have been so incredibly kind to me, all of you,” she said, glancing at Mr. Parker, not quite sure if she trusted herself not to blush while thanking him directly, “and I do hope I have measured up satisfactorily.” 

Mary smiled and then looked at Sidney, who nodded. “Well, Charlotte, that’s what Mr. Parker and I would like to talk with you about.” Charlotte looked at them both, her eyes full of questions. 

“In the short time you have been with us, you have proven yourself to be far more valuable and talented as would be expected from a maid. You have endeared yourself to all the staff, as well. Sidney, would you like to tell Charlotte about the offer?”

“Of course, Mary,” sounding more confident than he felt, for he was nervous for all sorts of reasons.

“Miss Heywood,” he said, reverting back to her formal name, as this was really the offer to a gentleman’s daughter and, again, distance felt a bit safer under the circumstances. “As Mary said, you obviously have a background that makes you a candidate to be more than a maid. Any household would be lucky to have you. In fact, I believe that if Tom hadn’t been so quick to hire you, you likely would have ended up as a governess. Mary has no need for a governess at this time, but she made a suggestion to me that I think is a splendid idea. Perhaps you would be amenable to serving as a ladies’ companion to Miss Lambe." 

Charlotte looked surprised, but he continued. 

“She is past the age requiring a governess, and is quite weary of her situation at Mrs. Griffith’s in Sanditon. She is wanting greater freedom, which is understandable. I have my business which takes me back and forth to London and I am hardly a proper chaperone for her in London now that she is getting older. 

"Sometimes a maid will attend daytime functions with a young woman without her own mother or father, but we do not have another maid who I think would be a suitable companion for an heiress, especially one who has...well, that is neither here nor there. Mostly, she could use a companion with more experience and judgment greater than her own. 

“Quite generously, Mary...Mrs. Parker...has agreed to allow Georgiana to live at Trafalgar House in Sanditon when we are not here in London as a family. You and Miss Lambe would stay wherever Tom and Mary are to keep propriety intact.”

Charlotte was taken aback. This meant she would have a permanent position with the Parkers, and a quite elevated one at that. But her head was spinning. She only had limited knowledge of what her duties would be. She had always pictured a ladies’ companion as an older woman, possibly married even, but she knew that younger women of her class were sometimes employed this way. Being Charlotte and wanting to do everything right, she was already worried about how she would handle being a companion to a young woman so close to her in age who had already confided in her about her guardian, while also remaining loyal to Mr. Sidney as her employer. 

_Mr. Sidney Parker as her employer!_

She began to get flushed under the idea as well as overwhelmed by all the unknowns she was trying to work out. Mrs. Parker continued with other logistical considerations that Mr. Parker had not addressed. “We had planned for you to stay with us as a maid through this week, but I can hardly ask you to do that now. Not only are you a gentleman’s daughter, but you have suffered through so much.” 

“Ma’am, I’m sorry but I could not possibly think of abandoning the work I agreed to do for you on such short notice unless I am not needed as a maid, which seems unlikely.” 

“Charlotte, that is very generous of you.” Realizing again that it might be beneficial to consult with Mrs. Van White, she paused, “You know. There’s no need to rush this. Why don’t you sleep on it and we can discuss things in the morning, including questions you must have about the role. Sidney, what do you think?”

He nodded from his place at the fireplace, a soft smile on his face, that made Charlotte feel even more shy.

__________

After Charlotte and Mary left, Sidney went to his study for a brandy. He was shocked by all that she had been through and in awe that she felt comfortable enough with them to share it. 

He was feeling her deep sadness and weariness, as well. Losing not only her parents but her younger siblings. Working what must have been incredibly long hours of back-breaking work trying to keep the farm going. Managing the books that her father had taught her to keep and then the burden it must have been to watch it all slip away on the ledger pages. 

It sounded like she had been quite close to her father. He had trusted her. And then the tears that finally came when she mentioned her mother. She was probably at the end of her rope when she came to London. But then she had to find employment, likely with little to no guidance from anyone with life experience. He was surprised she had not sought other employment, like teaching, but maybe it had all happened too fast--perhaps her brother had rushed his enlistment. 

Now he also felt he better understood the less obvious look behind her perceptive eyes and soothing, hopeful manner. It was a shadow of vigilance, from being constantly on alert because the challenges had come fast and unrelentingly for so long. 

He admired that it had not hardened her, but he knew that holding the world at bay was an exhausting endeavor. He hoped that maybe if she found a more permanent place with the Parkers, she could rest a bit and recover something of her future. 

With that sentiment, another thought came to him, and he planned to make an inquiry with his solicitor first thing in the morning. 

__________

Later that evening, Charlotte had thought all she could about the proposal, and was still weak from having retold the sad truth of her life over these last years. Then, the gentle, restful sound of Bach’s Concerto in D Minor, BWV 974, the adagio, began to drift through the house from the drawing room. It was just the balm she needed to soothe her.

  
[YouTube: Víkingur Ólafsson – Bach: Concerto in D Minor, BWV 974: II. Adagio](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=jfS6XagkL0M)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1816, the 'Year Without a Summer'  
> https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Year_Without_a_Summer
> 
> Farm Buildings (Just Because)  
> https://historicengland.org.uk/images-books/publications/national-farm-building-types/national-building-types-2014/
> 
> Ladies' Companions: Charlotte is on the young side for this role, and unmarried as well, but my understanding is that it wasn't unheard of for a woman of her class to be employed this way, both to preserve her eligibility in society and earn an allowance to support herself. It's a complicated topic, so some grace is request from those of you who might have more knowledge in this area, i.e. I'll pull my fanfic card if I have to. 😉😂 The Parkers are offering this because, even though she's not family, they like Charlotte very much and would like to keep her...and who wouldn't??
> 
> https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Lady%27s_companion
> 
> BTW, I took some sentimental liberties (aka I messed up) with locating Bedford Place in Kensington, a borough that came into its own closer to the mid- to late-19th century. With as sparsely populated as Kensington was in 1818, Charlotte would have been freaking out that Tom was taking her to be murdered on that first carriage ride back to Bedford Place. (She ought to have had a chaperone.) 
> 
> What can I say? It was my old haunt and Saint Mary Abbot's caught my attention. That parish was so full within a few decades of the 1810s that a new church had to be built in South Kensington (the one that I attended when I lived in London) so I was thinking that at least some of the development was already taking place. Not so much. 
> 
> Anyway, if you write a novel set in this time period, go east for your household's address.


	11. Getting to Yes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> If this seems a little short or less jazzy than the last few (something I find surprisingly hard to predict from a reader's POV), it's because I planned to post Thursday and Friday together as Chapter 11 to line up the dates with the chapter numbers (I'm a geek) and give you a little bonus material at the same time because... 
> 
> YOU ARE AMAZING...the tweets this weekend...WOW. And I ♥️ your kudos and comments which I have not replied to this week, but I have read them ALL. THANK YOU!!
> 
> Instead, I'm posting this as a single day as usual because, well, it's just time. HOWEVER, Friday is close to done, too--that's why this has taken so long. Chapter 12 should be in your hands sooner than later! 😘

**Thursday 10 December 1818**

Sidney realized when he woke up that he had probably messed up in offering the position to Charlotte straight after having heard her story without talking to Georgiana first. 

_Damn it. Why is there always another mess to sort. And I haven’t even talked to Tom about the financials. Strange he was out again yesterday afternoon. That’s not like him._

__________

  
  


_Hmmm. The purple one I think. No, the green._ Georgiana wasn’t sure which dress to choose. She was hoping to make it back to Philippa’s house today for another walk and maybe she would see her new acquaintance again. 

This was the most hopeful she’d felt in months. She was starting to feel that time was on her side, for she would be turning 18 in the summer and eventually Sidney would no longer be able to deny her entrance into society. And he had also been making more of an effort over the last week. Charlotte had become a confidante of sorts and it felt good to have someone with whom to share her news and seek advice.

But one particular person whom she had met, Mr. Francis Mallory, a friend of Miss Barrymore’s brother, had put a spring in her step. It felt like more than a flirtation, but he had yet to express any intentions. However, she felt fairly certain that if he was serious about her, she would know by the end of their next meeting, whenever that was. Regardless, he was the first real fun she’d had in months. 

Ever since the misadventure with Otis in London last summer, she had sunk into a morass of ill-feeling, her emotions tossed between hopelessness, indignation, and resentment. 

Rational or not, the events that led to her heartbreak had left her with a sense that Sidney’s hold on her love life would last into perpetuity. Many young women her age were already married and most had already made their debut and were “out” in society, but Sidney seemed determined to delay it as long as possible. 

She had been stranded in Sanditon with high-strung, tedious Mrs. Griffiths since last summer, until this trip to London. Aside from walks with her and the simpering Beaufort sisters, outings to the few shops, and church on Sundays, her world was her room, the parlor, and the dining room at Mrs. Griffiths’. _The indignity! The utter weariness of it all!_

It was night and day compared to the future she had dreamed of with Otis. Even months later, she could still feel him holding her waist firmly with one hand close to her hip and the warmth of his other through her glove, and the unfettered look of affection in his eyes when they’d danced. She had felt desirable, chosen, and important under his intense gaze. For the first time since her father died, she could see her future. 

When they had first met, he asked her to fetch a cup of wine, thinking she was a servant. But by the time she returned to Sanditon three months later, he had made her feel like she belonged with no one else. 

In between, they had seen each other at social functions and balls and a few times she had arranged “chance meetings” with him at the park with her friends. He was debonair, articulate, and noble, his work being with the “Sons of Africa,” the anti-slavery movement. It was torturous returning to Sanditon without him, but Otis had not wished to ask for her hand yet, and Sidney had rebuffed Georgiana’s pleadings that she wished to be allowed to be courted. 

Otis wrote letters to her, but when Sidney found out, he was incensed. It was true that a gentleman should have known better than to write letters to a young woman to whom he was not engaged, and he certainly had not requested permission. 

In her more honest moments, Georgiana had to admit that this was one of a few warning signs that Otis was not everything he appeared to be, another one being that he had also not given Sidney the respect that she had expected he would, even if Sidney was not her favorite person. 

Otis had made inferences about Sidney’s work being connected with slavery in Antigua to others, even after she had told him that Sidney had sought out her father because he had released his slaves and how he had divested from the sugar trade. She was never certain if it was because he viewed him as an obstacle to her hand--the more flattering account--or if he was simply rebelling against what Sidney represented to him, regardless of the facts.

Being unaware of Otis' comments about him (for if he had known he surely would have denied the possibility of any future relationship), he had simply said that Otis must wait, especially given his forwardness and impropriety in writing the letters. If he was honorable and sincere, Sidney had said, his interest would persist until the next season when Georgiana would debut and then he would _consider_ letting him court her. 

But she had only been a few weeks in Sanditon when she decided she could not accept this and continued to write to Otis, encouraging his attentions. She persuaded one of the shop girls to deliver letters on her behalf, but the postmaster caught onto the scheme. He informed Sidney who, rather than confronting Georgiana directly, decided to first find out more about Mr. Otis Molyneux. 

Crowe had asked around at some of the gambling halls on his behalf and found out that he owed quite a sum to a man named Beecroft who owned a number of disreputable establishments in London. 

Once Sidney knew Otis had been able to run up such a large debt, he had a suspicion. Wanting to know more, Sidney went to Beecroft’s offices to confront him directly. He did not want to give away Georgiana’s identity but he had to find out whether there was any risk to her. If there was, it would be far better to deal directly with a man like Beecroft, who would still operate by an honor code, even if he ran notorious businesses. 

“Mr. Beecroft. I am looking for information about a man named Otis Moyneux. I understand he owes you a hefty sum, and yet, his business is as anti-slavery organizer. What collateral did you require to allow him to run up such a large debt?”

Beecroft smirked, “You’re here about his fianceé, aren’t you? He owes you money, as well, does he? Want a piece of the action?” 

“No,” Sidney replied firmly. “But if my suspicions are correct, the young woman you speak of is my ward. She has NOTHING to do with Mr. Molyneux or his debt.” 

“What?? He told me a wedding to Miss Lambe was imminent. That her fortune was as good as his. I'd never have let him run up such a debt otherwise.” 

“He and my ward are barely acquainted. He has no right to invoke her name.”

But as it was Beecroft, Sidney could not secure her safety so easily as refuting Mr. Molyneux’s version of events. Beecroft’s code went as far as honoring the agreements he made with other men while monetizing whatever he could without taking it so far that the law got involved. 

Unsurprisingly, Beecroft implied that he could not ensure Georgiana’s safety as long as Otis was in debt. Sidney was pissed off, but knew the law couldn’t help him, so he came to an agreement with Beecroft that Georgiana would never be touched if he paid off half of Otis’ debt and Otis paid the other half. 

When Sidney returned to Sanditon he told her of Otis’ betrayal. At first, she didn’t believe him, but then Sidney showed her the receipt from Beecroft for the debt payment. She was ashamed that she had fallen for a man who would have such a debt, and all the more that he had used her name as collateral. Of course, she could not be sure of that--it was the word of a man who ran a gambling establishment, but it was small consolation. She was also resentful that Sidney had been correct in his hesitancy to allow the courtship. 

That said, Sidney would never convince her that Otis hadn’t loved her, or that he wasn’t a man of admirable ideals, but she had come to see that it was really beside the point for now. Otis would be working off his debt to Beecroft for quite some time to come, whether in debtor’s prison or at some job or another.

And that was the other rub. Not only was she ashamed of Otis’ debt and his behavior, she had no idea where he was. They had had no proper parting and she doubted Sidney had any idea either. “He is no longer your concern,” he’d said. She had thrown it back at him: “Whatever he has done, I can’t just cauterize my heart. I’m not you.” 

Now, Georgiana didn’t know what to think. She was mad at both Otis and Sidney. 

_Impossible men!_ she thought. Otis had used her name in company that he had no business being in, and gratuitously insulted her guardian. She wanted to believe that the man she thought she was falling in love with had not used her intentionally, but regardless, he had thoughtlessly put her in harm’s way.

And so she was left with Sidney. Her brooding guardian who made her feel like a burden. Something else he had to deal with. Like his ships. Or his brother. At least until this trip to London.

__________

Between her emotional exhaustion and Sidney’s soothing piano playing last night, Charlotte had slept soundly from nearly the moment her head touched the pillow. 

But with all that sleep, she was now refreshed enough to entertain all those questions she had put aside last night. Georgiana seemed in need of a friend, but headstrong as well, and only four years younger than herself. And working for Mr. Parker. She had not seen that coming!

Being a maid in the cozy nest created by Mrs. Van White and Mrs. Waters felt safe compared to this proposal, but she knew she would be foolish to pass up the opportunity. In telling Mr. and Mrs. Parker her story last night, she realized that she needed to try to reclaim at least some of the status she had as a gentleman’s daughter to secure herself a better position as soon as possible. 

She was not sure what intimidated her more: being a ladies’ companion to Georgiana or working for Mr. Parker. She had thought of him so often, from the relative safety of her perch as a maid. If she said yes, he was about to become a much bigger part of her life. And both because of her responsibility to him, as well as her social status being acknowledged as similar to his own, the tenor of their relationship would change, but to what exactly she could not say. 

__________

Sidney was sitting in his study with Georgiana now, and it was not going as he had hoped.

“Why do you have to ruin everything?!” She was pacing and holding her head in her fingertips.

Sidney thought it best to hold his tongue. _She is not finished yet._

Georgiana’s mind was racing with what she’d already confided to Charlotte. _If Charlotte accepted Sidney’s offer, would she tell him?_

“Why are you doing this? Did you decide again that you’re too busy to look after me yourself? I don’t need a minder.”

 _Closer to the end_ , he thought, still waiting. 

Georgiana wheeled around. “And worse. Why didn’t you ask me first?”

_Ah. There it was._

Sidney let the question land and looked at her with all the earnestness he could convey. “You’re right, of course, Georgiana.” Her gaze was still intense on him like she was waiting for the “but.”

“You are. I ought to have asked you.” He let it sink in and when she remained staring at him, he continued.

“What threw me off was that I recalled you two talking in the garden last Sunday and you’d even spoken about her at breakfast yesterday, saying that you were enjoying her company. And when I questioned it even slightly, you pushed back and said it was not right to judge a person worthy of friendship or not by their social standing. It’s not what I had meant to imply, actually, but you were correct. May I ask why it is that you would not wish to have her as your companion?”

“Isn’t it obvious? How am I supposed to talk to her when she’s only going to run to you with anything I tell her.” Internal cringe. _Did I really just say that?_ thought Georgiana.

“Do you have that much to tell her that you don’t want me to know?” He was somewhat alarmed, for he was getting closer to feeling like a parent with Georgiana and further from his youth than was useful for remembering that not every secret was inherently bad. 

Georgiana was quiet, lips pursed. 

“I can see some of why you might be displeased, Georgiana. I can. I simply had not realized how prized your relationship with Charlotte had become in this way.” 

Georgiana did not want to admit she had that many secrets so how was she to argue this point, she wondered, but Sidney interrupted that train of thought.

“Have you considered the alternative to me hiring Miss Heywood? Do you really wish to stay at Mrs. Griffith’s? I have not come up with a better alternative while I am traveling, and frankly, I am really no longer a suitable chaperone for you in London on my own, as I am a single man myself. Mary is being generous enough to offer the both of you to stay under her roof in Sanditon. I cannot ask her to be your guardian and your chaperone, without Miss Heywood.”

Georgiana took a deep breath and then looked back at Sidney. “I suppose you’re right about that.” 

“Have you thought about the advantages of having a companion? For instance, I have procured three of the four shows you wished to attend and she may attend all of them if you like. It’s either that, or I need to find someone else to accompany us. And I am sure you would rather have a young woman for company rather than your wretched guardian, anyway.” His self-deprecation only made her suspicious. _How does he know I said those very words about him only a few days ago?_

Her look told him she felt like he had seen through her so he elaborated, “You can hardly wish to have your aging bachelor guardian around all the time. Miss Heywood is not the perfect ladies’ companion in that she will not be able to accompany you on her own to some of the places an older or married guardian might, but I assume you would prefer her company over a spinster’s.” 

“You’re right about that.” Resigned, and a bit happier than she had been minutes ago.

“So, if I proceed with offering the position to Miss Heywood this morning, you are willing to try to make a go of it?”

“I suppose.” 

Sidney would take that as a "yes."

____________

The meeting of Mr. Parker, Mrs. Parker, and Miss Heywood had commenced in the drawing room. 

“How are you feeling about things this morning, Miss Heywood?”

Sidney was asking the questions, but Charlotte was relieved that Mary was there. 

“Well, it’s a very generous offer. I suppose I just have a few questions.”

“Of course.”

Charlotte pursed her lips, inhaled and said, “You said Georgiana is an heiress. Does that put her at risk? She spoke of some problem last summer that seemed to have something to do with her wealth. I’m just not sure I’m suited to be a chaperone.”

“Presently, there’s no reason to think she’s in danger. The debt for which her future was put in jeopardy last summer is being worked off. Also, you will always travel with at least the coachman and a footman during the day, and I plan to continue to accompany you both for evening events.” _How did I set this up so advantageously? This is going to be heaven and hell all at once._

Charlotte nodded, although she had hoped he might disclose more about what happened with Otis from his perspective, after the little Georgiana had told her, so that she could better understand her and her relationship with Mr. Parker, but that was a tall order and not to be. 

“What else is on your mind?”

“I don’t mean to be impertinent, but does Miss Lambe know? Is she desirous of a companion, of having _me_ as a companion?” 

“It is a fair question. We talked this morning. Admittedly, she was not as thrilled as I had hoped initially. However, she has been wanting more freedom for some time and this will give her the ability to go to shops in London with a contemporary rather than a footman, and, particularly when we return to Sanditon, the advantages for her are obvious with not being at Mrs. Griffith’s anymore.

“If I’m honest, Mrs. Griffith’s really was not the best environment and I am hopeful that a new start will benefit her. I feel that perhaps I have lost some of her confidence since we arrived from Antigua and I wonder if you might be able to engage her in a way that I seem to have lost the ability to do, if I ever had it.” Sidney bowed his head a moment, a look of heaviness washing across his face, and then looked back up at her and then off into the distance. “If I’m honest, I haven’t always been the best guardian.” He hated having to admit this, but something about her made him want to be honest, and, pragmatically speaking, he was certain Georgiana would complain about him to her anyway, if she hadn’t already.

“In what ways would you suggest engaging her?”

“In London, she will likely have enough to do, as we can talk about in a bit. When we get closer to returning to Sanditon, perhaps the three of us can sit down and talk about it together. She has been interested in the anti-slavery campaign. It’s the only thing that comes to mind. Perhaps in a week you may have a better idea after spending some time together. I know she has felt comfortable confiding in you.”

“Yes. Although, I am not sure if that will continue in quite the same way. She will know that I am responsible to you.” Her candor was one of her strongest attributes and she wondered whether Sidney would say anything to this. 

“Yes. Well, my primary concern is for her safety, as you can imagine, and I have not given her permission to court anyone. If she is not placing herself or her reputation in danger or defying my rules, I cannot think of anything that she should not be able to confide.”

He peered at her from under his brow, a slight smile in his eyes, “So am I to take from your questions that you’re considering accepting the position?”

Charlotte smiled. “Yes, Mr. Parker.”

Mary chimed in. “Sidney, I’m sure Charlotte would like to know more about the financial arrangements for the position.” 

“Yes, of course. An allowance is granted rather than wages. You may know this, but you are not considered an employee per se, because the position is as a peer to Miss Lambe. The allowance is £50 per annum and a clothing stipend will be provided as well. Additionally, the cost of any event or travel where you are accompanying Miss Lambe would be covered.”

“Charlotte," said Mary, "I was already planning to go to the modiste tomorrow, Madame Devy’s, and would love for you to accompany me. Perhaps Georgiana would like to come, as well. It would be good if they are able to outfit you for the coming week as I understand Mr. Parker and Miss Lambe are attending a few shows in the evening and a ball on Saturday night.”

Charlotte nodded her understanding, feeling a bit overwhelmed. The allowance was over five times the wages of a maid, plus a clothing allowance, and she would be going out in London!

Mr. Parker chimed in again, sensing her mood. “Miss Heywood, I would like to say that, well, you’ve been through a great deal, and I very much appreciate how candid you were last evening with Mrs. Parker and me. You may have been hired as a maid, but it was through no fault of your own. In fact, quite the opposite. In taking the position as Georgiana’s companion, you would be reclaiming your status as a gentleman’s daughter.”

Mary offered, “If it helps ease your mind, I spoke with Mrs. Van White this morning. First, while she was not surprised that you felt it your responsibility to continue on with your maid duties this week, she is quite anxious for you to claim a role more suited to your abilities. She did say that if it would make you feel better, there are a few projects you could help her with over the next few mornings. If you accept the position, she plans to tell the other staff later tonight after dinner, and you would start tomorrow.

Mary continued, “The only hiccup appears to be that we are currently out of bedrooms. Would it be an imposition to ask you to stay in your present room until we get something sorted this week?”

“Not at all ma’am. I don’t know what to say. It seems you’ve thought of everything.”

Sidney, looking to seal the deal, offered a charmingly tentative smile with a look of hopefulness. “So does that mean we have managed to overcome any objections you might have had?”

If Charlotte had any doubts left about what her path forward was, which she did not, they would have been gone now. 

Charlotte attempted to suppress her grin from being too broad. “Yes. Very much so. I would love to accept the position.”

  
  



End file.
